


Harry Potter and the Harveture Conundrum

by Babylon_Candle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Classical Elements, F/M, Harveture, Selkies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-15 04:10:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 77,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babylon_Candle/pseuds/Babylon_Candle
Summary: This story begins where "Harry Potter and the New Professor" ends. Harveture for Harry did not go too well. Problems, people going every which way as they fight their battles. And somewhere there is a Ford Anglia causing problems.This book is a work in progress so please excuse the changes:( That is why there is no total number of chapters... yet.





	1. Harry and Harveture.

**Author's Note:**

> May 4 2017: Inserted a couple new chapters and altered the time line. Added a couple new chapters at the end. Hopefully makes it better.
> 
> May 9, 2017: Still finding spelling and grammar errors. Gerr... Hence the update. So far no one has found anything out of the ordinary. Oh come on. There are loads of stuff that should not be there. Anyone willing to have a guess at one of them?

**Preamble**

 

There are two parts to this story. First, the story that starts on page one, and ends on the last page. Second, the bits I have tossed in that do not belong there. Think of this book as a written form of a “Magic Eye” book. Which means, if you didn’t see what should not be there, you’ve missed it and only read the excellent story I have written. Rather than trying to explain what I mean, here is an example.

********************

My horse, Nero, knew we would see action today. He could smell it in the air. The atmosphere was a mixture or fear, readiness, anxiety, patriotism, death and victory. He tossed his head, pawed the ground, snorted and pranced about eager to prove himself once again. Stallions are like that. He pranced up and down the line of men. Men, likewise, getting ready for the impending battle. It was in the air, in the sweat, in the fiddling with the knots one last time, feeling the sharpness of the blade, checking slingshot stones, and a thousand and one other small things men do before facing their deadly enemy.  
I worked my way up the line as Nero kept tossing this way and that. Finally, I saw Helaman at the head of his two thousand stripling warriors. Small in numbers but true every one of them: they have proved it time and time before.  
“Helaman”, I said in a loud voice, “Bring me my bow.”  
He turned to one of his men who handed it to him and he to me. The repair was first class. I expected nothing else.  
I moved Nero to front and center. Then, holding the bow aloft, I said in a loud voice, “Today we march on Helms Deep.” There mood change was palpable. Everyone knew that’s where we were heading. Knowing and verbalizing it are two different things.  
It’s like; everyone knows they will die… one day. It is a different thing to put an actual day and hour against it. Helms Deep was over the ridge in front of us. That means we shall face death today at 7 o’clock. I always attack at 7 o’clock. I like my battles before breakfast.  
We started moving forward just as the sun was coming up behind us. I liked the rising sun behind me as it gives a clear advantage and inspires confidence that I know what I’m doing.  
We lined up on the ridge and waited as the sun rose higher to enhance our advantage.  
At 7 o’clock, I started forward at the head of my men. Leaders lead while chickens run.

 ********************

So, let’s look carefully and we see a horse named Nero. Who is Nero? Does Nero belong in a HP story? No… he is Roman.  
Who is Helaman and his two thousand stripling warriors? Why those specific words? Humm… worth checking out. Seems odd.  
Why the specific command of, “Bring me my bow.” There is only one accepted “bring me my bow” line in English literature… have you seen it in Jerusalem? Ergo, what is the relationship between Jerusalem and HP? Actually absolutely nothing. However, it fits the story.  
‘Helms Deep’ needs no introduction. It is what it is.  
And finally, which mad dog does his shooting at 7 o’clock, before breakfast, while Marty wants to do his shooting at 8 o’clock, after breakfast? A totally ridiculous reference with nothing to do with HP as HP had not been conceived by shooting time.

 So there you have it. Every work, sentence, paragraph could have ridiculous references to all sorts of stuff. And that is only the beginning. Then there are loads of Alliterations. I love alliterations. Alliterations are cool.  
The ‘extras’ make writing fun and rewarding as I bury more stuff that no one in their right mind could ever think of.  
If you don’t find a thing, that’s okay. Hopefully you have read a first rate story of Harry Potter. That, in the end, is what it is all about. So, let the magic continue.

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

**May 25, 1998, Monday Morning**

_I was born under the wings of angels_  
_My parents were gods_  
_I am the brother to dragons_  
_And a companion to Silurians._

_My wife’s voice is like a harp_  
_My daughters play the flute_  
_My son is with the pipes,_  
_And I beat the drums._

_I was born under the wings of angels_  
_My finger reaching the sky_  
_With feet on the wall_  
_I see the iron rod and know the reason why._

_With wife in hand and children in tow_  
_We see the path and on we go._  
_Having read the parchments_  
_The path is clear,_  
_In the church, over the graveyard, and through the door in the wall._

 

“Alpha to Omega.” Better known as “Going Home”  
Lost about 1065 and recently rediscovered.

 

Mr. Weasley and Harry Potter apparated a short distance from Professor Rubeus Hagrid’s cottage. Hagrid was outside tapping his boot on the ground: waiting impatiently. “’Bout time you lot showed up. Time to go.” Hagrid said as he picked up his crossbow and quiver full of arrows.

“Go where?” Asked Harry as he looked about the familiar landscape.

“The forest… where else would Arthur want to go?”

Harry spun about to look at Mr. Weasley and was about to blurt out something no too nice then suddenly realized this was all prearranged and he was part of whatever was going to happen. Rather than argue and lose Ginny, Harry checked himself, closed his mouth and said nothing. Imperceptibly Mr. Weasley nodded in acceptance that they were now under the rules of engagement with respect to the laws and ordinances of Harveture.

Harry’s memory flashed back to his very first day at Hogwarts when, after the evening meal, Professor Dumbledore stood up and said, “Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give to you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember as well!” That last comment was directed at the Weasley twins. It was well known they had dealings with forest dwellers: even though nothing was ever proven.

Then came detention. This meant a trip into the forest for Harry, Hermione, Neville and Draco. The unicorn episode was one question Harry failed to ask Professor Dumbledore. If the forest is full of every nasty creature in the known universe, why were they sent into the forest with only Hagrid and a scared dog to protect them against the gathering forces of Tom Riddle?

“Right then, ready?” Hagrid asked Mr. Weasley

“Definitely ready,” He replied casually as he tossed a rather well packed rucksack onto his back.

“Well let’s go. Got a lot of walking ahead. Want to make good progress today: don’t we Harry?” Glumly Harry nodded in agreement now realizing he was caught off guard, with the wrong clothes and no provisions.

Hagrid gave an ear-piercing whistle that brought Fang running from the other side of his cottage. Smiling Hagrid said, “Well now, that should be it. Anything missing Arthur?”

“I don’t think so,” was Mr.Weasley’s reply followed by a clear, “Time to go.” With that, Hagrid took off heading to the east path through the forest.

“Not the same path as last time,” Harry commented to no one in particular.

In the front was Hagrid and Fang, Mr. Weasley next and a reluctant Harry bringing up the rear. Just as Harry reached the edge of the forest there came a piercing owl screech from high up and behind them. All three stopped and automatically looked skyward as a heavily laden owl came rocketing down towards the group. Hagrid eased his crossbow off his shoulder and held it casual like. Mr. Weasley slid beside a thick tree, and Harry stood his ground while reaching for his wand. Then a second owl came into view following the same downward trajectory as the first. Harry tool a step backward looking for some protection. Glancing about, he was on the edge of the forest, not in the forest. This meant he was without any protection facing two incoming owl’s.

The fist owl eased into a gentle loop to the left. He was looking for a good landing spot. This close to the forest meant selecting a good spot with a good exit was of primary importance. That was what the owl was thinking, not what Hagrid, Mr. Weasley or Harry were thinking. They were seeing two incoming owls carrying packages: suspicious looking packages.

The second owl eased into a gentle loop to the right, doing exactly the same as the first. He was also looking for a good landing spot. That is when Harry put up his hand to the others. He recognized what the owls were doing because Hedgwig had done the same all too often.

The first owl straightened out, made a beeline towards Harry, and did a nice landing three feet in front of a very bemused Harry. The second owl landed right beside the first and started to peck at the first. The first owl responded in like manner. Seems the two owls were pleased as punch to arrive before Harry had entered the forest.

“Now you two wait a minute,” Hagrid said. “Better check what’s going on here. Don’t want Harry being disqualified before we get started… do we?”

The rules and regulations of Harveture explicitly exclude outside communication to either party. That is clear. Owl’s, on the other hand, are not explicitly excluded if they are not carrying messages of any sort. The two owls were carrying something larger than a message.

Hagrid approached the owls and removed the rather large packages from each owl. Going over each one Hagrid was looking for any writing, omens, hexes, spells or enchantments that might hide a message of some sort.

“Well?” Asked a frustrated Mr. Weasley. “Do you see anything?”

“Keep your shirt on Arthur, gotta be careful here.” Hagrid said as he pealed off several layers of brown paper. Finally getting down to the last layer of paper, Hagrid unwrapped a set of outdoor clothes just the right size for Harry. “Well now, who would know you’d be here,” Hagrid, wondered aloud. “Not very like you’d know.” Hagrid said to Harry. “More like someone else… right Arthur.” Hagrid said looking over at a red faced Mr. Weasley. “Didn’t say anything over the kitchen table? Did we?” Hagrid asked.

“Of course not,” Mr. Weasley fired back.

A not amused Hagrid handed the clothes towards Harry. “Best get changed. Go use the hut; and be quick.” Then he added, “No, wait. Let’s look at the second one, just in case.” With that, Harry and Mr. Weasley gathered about Hagrid as he carefully attended to the second package. Again, Hagrid was scrumptiously through and methodical. He knew that violating the rules and regulations of Harveture usually results in immediate shunning by certain pureblood wizards followed by banishment to Australia. Something Hagrid didn’t want Harry to face.

After a through inspection and careful unraveling there, on the brown paper were three resplendent apple crumbles, neatly protected against spills with a wide assortment of wrapped foodstuff to feed one skinny graduate from Hogwarts.

“Right nice of someone to provide provisions for one for a long tramp through the forest,” Hagrid said as he stood up looking from Harry to Mr. Weasley. “It’s like someone knew Harry likes apple crumble, likes ‘em a lot, I would say. Provisions, yes; messages, no. Any problems with that Arthur?”

Mr. Weasley gave a frown and shook his head.

“Are you sure? Don’t want anyone to say we didn’t talk about it.”

This time Mr. Weasley thought long and hard then said, “So long as there are no messages, then there is not much I can say… Is there?”

“Then you better get changed,” Hagrid said to Harry, “and be quick. We’re loosing daytime.” With that, Harry jumped up, ran to the cottage and quickly changed in to appropriate tramping clothing.

While in the cottage, Harry could hear heated word between Hagrid and Mr. Weasley. The minute Harry opened the door to step out of the cottage, the words stopped as the two red faced men shuffled apart.

Harry ran back and carefully placed all the food into his moleskin pouch. Hagrid smiled, as he knew it was his present Harry was using to good effect.

“Okay, alright… this time are we really ready?” Hagrid asked as Harry licked some crumble from his fingers.

“You lead the way while Harry and I follow along and chat for a bit.” Mr. Weasley said.

“Good idea,” Hagrid said. With that, Hagrid pushed ahead into the forest. He set off at a good pace. He could do that because of his size and easy walking style over rough terrain. Soon a gap between Hagrid and the other two developed and Hagrid had to keep stopping to let the stragglers catch up. At every stop Harry could hear Hagrid muttering something under his breath about how slow small people are when there was places to go, people to see, and important things to do.

“Well now Harry,” Mr. Weasley started with as they clambered over a particularly large tree trunk. “I think we can begin the formal part of Harveture while we walk. Since I have only one daughter I am particularly interested in the person who wants to marry her. I want to make sure they are fit, able and it is a good match.” There was another break in the conversation as they walked round another rather large tree in the middle of the path. “I reviewed the crib-notes on Harveture and guess I better start at the beginning. Firstly, Harry, tell me about your family.”

Harry felt a wave of relief sweeping over him. He had been doing this speech for the past several days as the others listened and tore into him until he had honed the story to a fine finish. Taking a deep breath Harry started at the beginning and carried on. He found the tramping through the forest made the story sound more real as he had to keep stopping and starting as they wandered down the lumpy trail. It took a full twenty minutes of chatting, scampering, walking, and generally meandering along the trail to complete the story. Of course, Harry did not reveal the fact that his parent’s home is not a blown up shell of a house. He felt he would rather save that information for a quiet moment with Ginny.

Suddenly Hagrid raised his arm stopping the other two. He turned and held up a finger to his lips. With the ease of a gazelle, Hagrid slipped off the track and disappeared into the thick undergrowth. It was a full five minutes before Hagrid returned with Ronan a centaur of the forest. “Just been talking to Ronan here. Says things are abuzz in the forest. Not as it was: like. Said it is all predicted in the stars. Seems Ronan and his friends have been doing a lot of study lately… lot of star study he says.”

“Predicting the future is one of our specialties. Tricky at times, but well worth it when truth prevails and the alignments of the stars are right.” Ronan continued with, “Just like I said to the others. I said, ‘Potter will prevail’ and I was right. You did prevail and rid us of a most odious of individuals ever to grace Hogwarts. Of course we knew he was rotten…”

An amazed Hagrid cut in with, “Predicted it, did you?” Hagrid said half in jest and half in frustration. He found centaurs hard to follow and harder to understand what they are driving at. Centaurs say a lot, which, when thought over, does not amount to much.

“Of course we did.”

“Then why didn’t yer get rid of him yerselves and save us the time?”

“We are not allowed to interfere in human ways. Humans have to learn to follow their own straight and narrow path by holding to the iron rod and press forward. Humans have the tools and still refuse to use them. So why should humans listen to us? Never done before and doubtful they will do so in the future.”

Mr. Weasley was just about to take a step forward when Harry put his hand on his shoulder. Best not let emotions overrun a conversation between a half giant and a centaur.

“So you let it happen.” Hagrid fired back.

“Of course we did not ‘let it happen’ as you so crudely put it. We let free agency happen. If we had stepped in, we would have been accused off interfering in human ways. Assuredly, Tom Riddle would have twisted our good intentions into something debased and ugly. Look at yourself: did anyone believe it was not you who opened the Chamber of Secrets? No, of course not. There was a preponderance of evidence against you and Tom was a master of deceitfulness. Only Professor Dumbledore had a glimmer of suspicion, which he could not prove, but managed to keep you at Hogwarts against all the odds.”

Seeing Hagrid stumbling a bit Harry added, “And you were there fighting against Riddle and his death eaters.”

Ronan stood a little taller. Then with pride added, “We were. We were there and happy to be of assistance. Of course, we shall tell our children and grandchildren that we were there helping all the others defeating Voldemort and his ilk to make a better place for our offspring.”

“Very commendable, I’m sure,” Muttered Hagrid. Then he asked, “And what is going on in the forest these days?”

“Aside from the Pan Stones playing away, not much.”

“Not much as in not much? Or not much as in not much?” The difference between the two questions was where Hagrid put the emphasis. In the first ‘not much’ Hagrid emphasized the word ‘not’ while in the second ‘not much’ the emphasis was on the word ‘much’. Centaurs are like that.

“Difficult to say as we are getting a new moon tonight. New moons, as you know are new and anything new is not dependent on anything old.”

At least we aren’t having a ruddy eclipse. Remember that?”

 “Eclipses are difficult to read…”

“Disappearing like that gave everyone the willies.”

“We didn’t disappear. We chose to move to the Land of Many Wonders as it had been a very long time since we had been there.”

“Right,” Hagrid said giving emphasis to every letter in the word. “Just like you said when you returned three months later.”

“Well, it does take time seeing all the wonders in the Land of Many Wonders.”

“Where is the Land of Many Wonders?” Harry quickly asked. “Never heard of it.”

“Well you weren’t since you dropped my class. Talked about it that third year.” Harry went bright red in embarrassment. Dropping the class was still a sore point with Hagrid. He liked having Harry, Ron and Hermione in class, as he knew he could rely on them.

“It is a place on the other side of the Waters of Sebus, close to the Land of Many Sorrows but not as far as the Land of Desolation.”

“How big is the forest?” Harry asked in a puzzled voice.

“Of all the creatures in the forest maybe we Centaurs are the only ones who truly know the size of the forest.” Ronan said in an easy tone. “We are the only ones who travel the length, breadth, width and depth of the forest. We see, explore, understand and follow the signs. Indeed we may say we are the keepers of the forest as no one else does what we do.”

“So how big is it?” Harry asked again.

Seeing that was the wrong question Hagrid cut in with, “Now don’t you go bothering Ronan here with silly questions. We best be off now as we have a ways to go before time to camp.”

“In which direction are you going?” Ronan asked.

“Down the Great East Road…”

“Oooh, not the Great East Road. Lonely that road is this time of year. Dwarves still use it, you know.”

“So we hear,” Hagrid said in a dry tone. “But it’s the one for us.”

“May see you down the road. Then again maybe not. Not quite a location suited for Centaurs.”

There was some movement behind Ronan that caught his attention. “Time to go, the others are here.”

“Good thing the others are here now,” Hagrid said. “Any roads, good to see you Ronan and takes care.”

“We always do.” With that, Ronan slipped off into the forest and within two seconds was lost to view.

“Tricky customers them there Centaurs,” Hagrid said to no one in particular.

“The Great East Road, did you say?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“That’s right,” Hagrid replied, “Seems that’s the last place your ruddy car was spotted. That was until it took off at the speed of thunder. At least that’s the latest I’ve heard.”

“Hang on a moment,” Harry said cutting in pretty quickly. “What car is this we are talking about?”

“Didn’t you tell him Arthur?”

“Ah, must have slipped my mind.” An absent-minded looking Mr. Weasley said as he looked up to study the sky.

“So why don’t you tell ‘im now while we keep on walking. Got a ways to go.” And with that, Hagrid took off at a good pace.

“Car, what car is that, Mr. Weasley?” Queried Harry.

“The old Ford Anglia, actually. I thought since we were going to have some quiet time together we could do a little Harveture while we looked for the Anglia. I mean, we can’t talk all day, every day… can’t we?” Mr. Weasley’s forced chuckle didn’t go down too well with Harry. Harry was thinking it was supposed to be a one-on-one between himself and Mr. Weasley. Not some expedition up the Khyber looking for a renegade Ford Anglia that seems more interested in killing than tootling down the M1. “We could talk while wandering through the forest…” Mr. Weasley said in a general sort of way.

Upset at getting Harveture and the Anglia mixed up, Harry carefully selected his words and said, “I thought it was Ron’s job to get rid of the Anglia from the forest, not anyone else?

“Ah, yes. That is true. However, I must point out that it is a car I was responsible for. Because of that responsibility I feel it is incumbent upon myself, under the existing circumstances, to assist in this endeavor.”

Harry could clearly see Mr. Weasley was smitten with the notion of finding the rogue car and bringing it back home.  However, he wanted to push one point a bit harder. “What will Ron say when he finds you have the car?”

“Oh, I expect he’d be glad he didn’t have to go wandering through the spider infested forest.”

“I thought the Ministry wants Ron to do the job?”

“True, true… but after some internal discussions I was informed that I could assist Ron with the car.”

“Oh, assist is it?” Harry said in a heavily sarcastic tone that Mr. Weasley missed as he was getting a bit uncomfortable about the Harveture and Anglia mixture. Then Harry added, “Here we are, wandering through the Forbidden Forest for Harveture. Also in the forest are all sorts if nasty things, as well as a killer Ford Anglia.”

 “Yes, that’s right… full of nesting things. However, and I must point this out, we do have Hagrid with us as our guide and protector.”

“With a dog that is scared of its own shadow”

“Don’t know about the dog…”

Yep, one not so brave dog.”

“But Hagrid did hear Ronan and headed him off, so we have enough.”

“I hope you’re right Mr. Weasley… I really do.” With that, Harry took off after a fast moving Hagrid. Mr. Weasley struggled to keep up with the two of them as they were behind schedule and Hagrid wanted to get to a good camping ground before it got too dark.

These days the Great East Road is a quiet road: a really quiet road. Way back when, several hundred years ago, it was a well-used path for dwarves as they traveled to their mines in the Blue Mountains from the homelands about the Misty Mountains. On their return, the dwarves were accompanied by their heavily laden wagons. The weight of the wagons cut an easy trail to follow. Even though the ruts are there they are covered with moss, lichen, spider’s webs and the like while the vegetation was regaining control of the trail.

Harry had never seen Hagrid kill anything. It was as if Hagrid enjoyed all sorts of animals and found the good in every one of them: including great big spiders. The whoosh and thump of the arrow from the crossbow was something like a shock to Harry: not so to Mr. Weasley. Hagrid quickly moved aside through thick forest undergrowth and came back with a lizard impaled on the arrow. “Ysalamir… Nasty buggers they are. Don’t want them nearby when things get rough.”

“Why not?” Harry quickly asked as he peered closely it the twitching animal.

“They make you forget,” Mr. Weasley said with a shudder. “It’s like you just forget the spell, or whatever you were going to do. Get out of their area and you are okay. If you don’t… Since they live in the forest we never see them and forget about them at our peril.”

“That’s about right, Arthur,” Hagrid said as he studied the Ysalamir closely, “But you forgot they do make good eating. Think we’ll have this one for supper tonight. Little sauce with our vittles followed by some apple crumble and cream… and Bob’s your uncle!” The gleam in Hagrid’s eye said it all. While taking the Ysalamir off the arrow, Hagrid added, “Keep your eyes peeled Harry. That was one of the smaller animals that are a problem to wizards wandering through the forest.” That was when Harry fully understood what an understatement meant as he moved his eyes from bush to bush; from tree to tree; from shadow to shadow… until he was getting dizzy and stopped whipsawing about.

Harry missed Hagrid raising his crossbow and firing another arrow rapidly followed by throwing his ever-handy sax knife. “The buggers always travel in threes. Knew there were others about, just couldn’t see them.” Hagrid said in a firm voice. “Got them though… and more for us to eat.” Just before Hagrid took off to retrieve the other two Ysalamir’s he turned to the others and reminded them with, “Just like I was saying, keep our eyes peeled. Things out there are keeping an eye on us lot.” Mr. Weasley and Harry stood rooted to the ground while Hagrid was gone. Neither had the desire to take off without Hagrid and his crossbow to become someone’s meal.

A shortish while later Hagrid reemerged from the dense forest with two more Ysalamir hanging from his belt. “Let’s get going. Loosing time to all this stoppin’.” With that, Hagred picked up the pace while Mr. Weasley and Harry followed at a more circumspect pace.

Once back on the trail, Mr., Weasley was back on Harveture with, “Tell me about the times you used magic for the first time. Times when you didn’t know you were a wizard.”

“Before Hogwarts?”

“That’s right, before you arrived at Hogwarts.”

This was an area not specifically addressed in his preparation with the others. So Harry started with the story about when the Dursley’s took him to the White Tower at the Tower of London and Henry VIII’s suit of armor. The suit actually stepped forward and fell on top of Dudders as he was pointing at something and laughing. When he was young, Harry had no idea what Dudders was pointing at: now he did. At the conclusion of the story, Mr. Weasley was bright red with embarrassment.

Then Harry continued with the time the Dursley’s took him to Portsmouth and HMS Victory. It was supposed to be an education trip for Dudders but, as usual, turned into a fiasco. As every English person knows, HMS Victory was the flagship of Lord Nelson as he sailed into the Battle of Trafalgar., the death of Lord Nelson, and a fantastic victory. Sadly the ship was badly mauled and had to undergo considerable refurbishment. Eventually HMS Victory was put into permanent dry dock as a fitting retirement for such a noble ship.

Trouble started at the walkway onto the ship. Dudders was not allowed to carry on his rather large bag of Smith’s potato chips. Once disposed of in a near by bin they were allowed to proceed up the walkway and onto the ship.

Trouble continued as Mr. Dursley insisted on calling HMS Victory a boat, not a ship of the line. And he made sure everyone heard him as he used his rather loud voice on his wife. Harry, not wanting to draw attention to himself, eased away from the Dursley’s to the back of the tour group. Being small has its advantages.

As they went down the decks, the height from floor to ceiling got less and less. Dudders and Harry were fine, not so Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. What fascinated Harry were the big and powerful Carronade cannons and the neatly stacked pile of cannon balls. As he looked at the balls, the balls began to shake. The shaking continued until the pile collapsed and the heavy cannon balls started to roll across the floor. In all five piles broke free which made everyone in the tour group run for the exit. Fortunately, Harry was closest to the exit and first up the steps and out of there. Not so fortunate were the Dursley’s as they were at the front of the group, fussing the loudest and closest to the cannon ball stacks. This meant they had to run the fastest to get away from the ever-rolling balls. Because of the mayhem, Harry was able to circle round and continue the tour without the Dursley’s and Dudders constant whining for his lost chips.

Another time, Harry was on his way home from Infants School. Yet again, he had managed to out dodge Dudders and his palls. Harry had taken a route passed the corner sweet shop. This was his all time favorite haunt. Standing outside the shop looking at all the goodies through the window. All the jars of hard-boiled sweets just waiting to be eaten. Licorice Allsorts of every shape and size. Dolly mixtures by the jar full. Jawbreakers of sizes way too large for any small boy.

With only six pennies in his pocket, Harry knew that would not go very far. With a sigh he entered the shop to the small tinkle of a bell over the door. A small woman with a harsh voice came sailing out the back and over to the counter. “You again! More money this time I hope.” Harry looked down and despondent. He usually had ten pence to spend, but Dudders pushed it down to six. Seeing his sad face, the woman said, “How much then?”

Harry held out his six small pennies in his uplifted hand.

The little woman plucked the coins out if his hand and made a bit of a fuss counting out the pennies. “Okay the. You can have one of these, or two of these, or  six of these…” and so on through Harry’s favorite sweets. After studying the sweets long and hard, Harry picked two sweets that tasted like Tizer, his favorite soda.

With a smile on his face, Harry stuffed the small bag into his duffle coat pocket and left the shop. Knowing how crafty Dudders was, Harry peered up and down the street, making sure Dudders wasn’t lurking about before taking off at a high rate to the park.

As he walked he fingered his sweets. Then the two sweets started to bounce about in his pocket. Suddenly there was a small pop and the two became three and then four and carried on until he had six sweets in the bag in his pocket. Harry took his time going home. The yelling he received for being late home from school was well worth it.

The stories flowed easily as they walked along behind Hagrid. Several times Harry felt Hagrid wanted to turn around and join in the conversation. Harry was wondering if there was more than one person keeping an eye on him during his early years.

The one story Harry did not offer up was the time the Dursley’s took Harry and Dudders to Stonehenge. It was one Saturday about lunchtime that Mr. Dursley was tired of the constant bickering between the boys. Or rather, the high-pitched whining of Dudders against Harry because Harry would not play him at snakes and ladders. In deep frustration at the cold weather outside and his son, Mr. Dursley threw down his newspaper and said, “Let’s go for a ride.” Mr. Dursley felt a car ride could solve all problems. It usually did because no one was allowed to speak while Mr. Dursley was driving as he said, “It distracts me from concentrating on the road.” In reality, it gave Mr. Dursley a clear voice to yell and gesticulate at the stupid drivers out there on the road.

They pulled in to the car park at Stonehenge with the sun getting low on the horizon. Once tickets were bought, Dudders realized there were no concession stands out at the stones. This is when he threw the mother of all temper tantrums. He stomped on the ground. Flayed at his parents. Cried buckets. Rolled on the ground and refused to get up.

While all this was going on, Harry said quickly to Mrs. Dursley, “I’m off to look at the stones.” She gave a quick nod while trying to deal with a disruptive Dudders.

Of course, Harry, along with everyone in Great Britain has heard of Stonehenge and all the weird stories that swirl about them. Stories are one thing while seeing them in real life is very different. As Harry approached and walked about the stones, he was in total awe. The stones were big, really big… and no one knew how they got there.

While wandering about the inner area, Harry felt a cool wind blowing. He gave a shudder as he looked about to see if he could spot the Dursley’s. Harry could see no one. Then he remembered all the people he did see were going back while he was about the only one coming out to see the stones.

That’s when he walked around one of the fallen stones and saw the stairs going down into the ground. About the entrance were a red velvet rope to prevent people falling in.

Harry looked down the well-lit stairs and unclipped the rope so he could go down. At the bottom of the stairs was a well lit cavern that stretched on and on. What caught Harry’s eye was the large box standing a little way off to the left. The box was big of curious workmanship. As Harry approached the box, he heard a noise off to the right. That was enough to but the wind up Harry and he took off at high speed up the stairs and out into the late afternoon. Harry quickly put some distance between him and the entrance. That is when he saw the Dursley’s shuffling by the large upright stones. Glued between his parents was Dudders. Harry could see he was not a happy boy so he slid in behind by five feet. Five feet was the distance Mr. Dursley has designated as how close Harry could be to his family when out in public. When the family walked by the entrance Harry realized it was not there any more. Like… it was gone as in vanished. Like… it did not exist.

Harry kept the story to himself. He didn’t want to be picked on any more than what he was going through for taking off without the others.

 

It was something like six o’clock afternoon that Hargrid called a halt by saying, “Time to set up camp. Not where I was planning, but I’d suppose it’ll do.”

Hagrid pulled out the tent and began to cast spell after spell over it until it was fully erected. “There, nice and easy. Soon have a pot of tea going.” Then Hagrid added, “Getting the food goin’ Harry?”

Harry stood rock still until he remembered that Harveture dictated the boy seeking the girl’s hand does all the cooking. Forcing a smile over his face Harry replied with, “Of course Hagrid.”

Hagrid nodded and said, “Good on yer. Just make it a healthy one as I feel a bit peckish… if you know what I mean.”

Once it became known the boy had to do the cooking, his Hogwarts friends started to back peddle. Things changed once they realized they could use magic as much as they wanted. Then they realized no one knew how to cook as their parents, house elves, or someone else did all the work. And being at Hogwarts hadn’t helped. So all of them went on a crash course of cooking, Wizard style.

First and foremost was Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration and the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp's Law, the one in question being food. This caused an instant rush to the library to get it right. Once read, digested, regurgitated and thrashed over, they had a pretty good idea what they could and could not do. That was when they went down into the very clean Hogwarts kitchen and made a mess practicing all the wrong ways to create a culinary delight.

Rather than being bold, unnecessarily creative, and risk ta total disaster, Harry went for a simple, but effective, stew.

Building a fire is fun. A careful flick of the wand removed enough dirt to make a nice sized fire pit. A second flick and a search was made to find only dry wood suitable to cook the stew. Harry remembered to be careful not to whack anyone on the head with the flying sticks. The wood came the long way round the camp and fell neatly into the pit with paper at the bottom. After a careful review Harry used the smaller Incentee spell, rather than the Incendio spell. All you need is a small flame to get things going.

That is when Harry turned his attention to the hanging Ysalamir. Chopping, cutting, and trimmed beef was one thing, skinning and extracting the meat out of an Ysalamir was something else. Fortunately, Harry had packed Mrs. Beaton’s cookbook that comes complete with spells and moving pictures. In Harry’s opinion, Mrs. Beaton is hands better than Julia Child and all her fancy French stuff. Harry had to concentrate to do each part of the spell in the correct order and in the correct way. He didn’t want to make a pile of chopped skin, bones and sinew. Carefully the spells came and the razor sharp kitchen knives went to work on the Ysalamir.

With that going Harry turned his attention to the vegetables located in the larder. The tent was well stocked: Hagrid knew his stuff.  Harry looked through all the necessary items for a good thick and tasty stew. Finally he selected two plump onions and set a knife to work with the obligatory onion pealing and chopping spell that had the anti-squirt addition to the spell. That was a good find by Terry Boot in a really dusty _Cooking Wizard’s_ by Betty Crockshock. Then there were carrots, leaks, and turnips. All went under the knife.  

In between all this chopping and cutting, Harry put a little oil in the pan. Once hot enough Harry put in the carefully chopped Ysalamir. The minute they touched the hot oil a spurt of blue smoke came out of the meat. “Blue means good meat, Harry.” Hagrid said from his easy chair. “Yellow means sorta okay and pink means its bad and you better toss it out. Simple… see.”

Rather than argue with Hagrid on meat blowing odd colour smoke at you, he had to keep the meat moving so it didn’t stick to the pan. Once nicely seared Harry put out his hand and summoned a bottle of Ready Sauce. Everyone called it Ready Sauce but it was a home brewed sauce of whatever you liked. Harry liked his sauce a bit spicy with lots of flavor. Hagrid liked his Ready Sauce ‘sparkling spicy’ as he called it. In reality, it was hot enough to blow both socks clean off! 

Since Harry was cooking, Harry was more interested in Keeping Mr. Weasley happy than Hagrid, so he toned down the Ready Sauce.

With the Ready Sauce added, Harry pushed in the chopped vegetables and gave the pan a stir. Things were looking really good. Next to the fire was the heavy Dutch oven. Inside was the Heavenly Bread Rolls. Every consulted cookbook said bread rolls are needed to go with stew. Seems their main use was to wipe the plate clean before letting out a huge sigh of satisfaction. It was Anthony Goldstein who stumbled over the Heavenly Bread Roll recipe. And after eating several they were unanimously declared better than the usual rolls they got at Hogwarts.

There is a general temptation to pull a stew off the fire before it has time to absorb the Ready Sauce. That is why, Wizards being Wizards, Harry and the others had developed a timer ingredient that would shoot out white sparkles when the Ready Sauce had penetrated the meat. Then it was up to the cook to declare when the meal was ready: knowing the stew was good to be consumed.

Harry kept a close eye on the food while directing a spell to set the table for three with cutlery, butter and chilled butterbeer. Once set it was only a few minutes to wait for the shooting stars to appear. That’s when Harry said the truly magical words, “Food’s ready!”

“”Bout Time,” muttered the fast moving Hagrid

“Smells fine,” an impressed Mr. Weasley said as he folded up a confiscated muggle newspaper.

Taking the lead, Harry asked Hagrid to say grace before spooning out generous portions of stew into empty bowls. Then a profound silence descended over the three travelers as they had the first good meal of the day. Hagrid had seconds followed by smallish thirds. The bread rolls quickly vanished and were just as quickly replaced from the second Dutch oven. The rolls helped fill out Hagrid and clean the plates. With a casual flick of the wand the plates were cleared away and out came one apple crumble with three clean bowls. Hagrid’s eyes had a thoroughly satisfied look about them. “And crumble,” he said in a silky voice.

“Not for me,” a well-fed Mr. Weasley said as he pushed back his chair from the table. “I think I ate too much stew.” Then he added, “Maybe later. Or breakfast. Okay, maybe breakfast.” With that, Mr. Weasley settled back in to his chair and the muggle newspaper.

Hagrid had room for two generous servings of crumble. While serving, Harry began to realize just how much Hagrid could put away at one meal. As cook, he was sure Hagrid’s apatite would only increase the more they tramped through the forest.

As Hagrid was scraping the bottom of his bowl, Mr. Weasley, from the depths of his confiscated muggle newspaper, exclaimed, “Look at that, muggles off to Babylon on another expedition.”

“Not again,” was Hagrid’s reply.

“Yes, again,” Then Mr. Weasley added, “Seems they are after the same old stuff. ‘Artifacts of great antiquity.’ It says here.”

“Nonsense. They are still after them there candles.”

At the word,’ candles’ Harry’s ears picked up. He had never heard about people going after candles. Old stuff, yes, but never candles. Candles melt in hot places and Babylon is a hot place. Harry knew all that, as Mesopotamia was one of Mr. Dursley’s favorite topics. Harry always thought it was a favorite topic, because no one else knew a bean about Mesopotamia.

“What’s that about candles?” Harry quickly asked.

Hagrid looked at Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley looked back at Hagrid. Then Mr. Weasley took a deep breath and replied with, “Something not taught at Hogwarts. Candles, specifically Babylon Candles are rare and hard to find. Hard for muggles as well as witches and wizards.”

“So, what’s so special about these candles?”

“They help you get about: fast.”

Somewhat puzzled, Harry asked, “Don’t we have enough ways to get about? Mean we have apparition, portkeys, broomsticks, Foo Network, train, enchanted vehicles, flying horse-drawn carriages, magical ships, Knight Bus, flying carpets, Hipogriffs, vanishing cabinets, thestrals and time turners.”

“Finished are you? Chimed in Hagrid.

“Well, yes. That’s all I can think of at the moment.”

“That’s a ruddy long moment,” muttered Hagrid to no one in particular.

Carrying on, Mr. Weasley said, “A Babylon Candle is so rare that it is only spoken in mythological terms and in nursery rhyme form as in the following.”

 

_How many miles to_ _Babylon_ _?_

_Four score miles and ten._

_Can I get there by candlelight?_

_There and back again._

_Yes, if your heels are nimble and light,_

_You can get there by candlelight._

 

“That’s your English version,” Hagrid said, “Up here in Scotland we say it this way.”

 

_King and Queen of Cantelon,_

_How many miles to_ _Babylon_ _?_

_Eight and eight, and other eight._

_Will I get there by candle-light?_

_If your horse be good and your spurs be bright._

_How mony men have ye?_

_Mae nor ye daur come and see_

 

Somewhat frazzled by this sudden turn to nursery rhymes, Harry asked, “Okay, what’s going to Babylon got to do about wizards getting about?” Then he added, “And how do you put candles with Babylon anyway?”

With a sigh Hagrid said, “He don’t get it.” to Mr. Weasley.

“Too simple for his busy mind.” Replied Mr. Weasley, “The nursery rhyme is there to remind us no one has ever seen, let alone used, a Babylon Candle in an awful long time.”

“So, why are they so rare?” Harry asked.

“It all goes back to the split between muggles and wizards. Before the split, Babylon Candles were pretty common. Usually used by people who could afford them. They rather made a big splash on arrival wherever you were going. After the split, using a Babylon Candle became probated. The candles that remained quickly went underground. Are there any left depends on who you talk to. I’d say there are some still out there. Can’t prove it, just my opinion.”

“So it is not illegal to own one, while it is illegal to use one?” Posed Harry.

Hagrid looked at Mr. Weasley before replying with, “Not sure Harry. Like I said, using them is prohibited. Prohibited ain’t the same as illegal … if you can see the difference.” Then he quickly added, “I recon any candles out there are owned by old families who had them from old times. New families won’t have a chance of getting them.”

Thinking about it for a moment, Harry asked, “How doe they work? I mean, it’s a candle?”

“Mr. Weasley looked at a bewildered Hagrid who clearly didn’t know. So he said, “Story has it, first you grab the candle, then you think of the place you want to go to. Finally you light the candle and whoosh, off you go.”

“That’s sorta how I heard it.” Hagrid said in a none too sure tone.

“That’s what I was told,” replied Mr. Weasley, “Since I don’t have one, I can’t exactly say it is true or not.”

“Your family is old, isn’t if Mr. Weasley?” Harry asked.

“Well yes it is.”

“Sacred Twenty-Eight?”

“We are one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight.”

“Don’t you have one of these candles tucked away somewhere?”

“I would assume so. However, since I’m not on the main line, I can’t say with any certainty if we do or don’t.”

Still interested in these candles, Harry asked, “Well, what do they look like? Mean, isn’t a candle like any other candle?”

Mr. Weasley laughed a little at Harry’s seemingly innocent question.

“All I’ve ever heard is they are the blackest of black candles while the wick is the whitest of white. As I said, that’s from a long time ago at one of our family gatherings. Times and places to rehash over ancient family stories and legends to pass on to very young and impressionable witches and wizards.”

While Mr. Weasley was talking, Harry was remembering. He was remembering his third year at Hogwarts. He was thinking of the Trophy Room with the four candlesticks given by the founding four and the one larger candlestick representing the creation of Hogwarts itself. He was remembering black candles in all five candlesticks. As Harry was going back in time, he was also remembering Professor Dumbledore’s classic advice to hide important things in plain site so no one could see them.

Getting back to the present, Harry asked, “And you think the muggle expedition is going to look for candles and not for something else?”

Somewhat stunned by the question, Hagrid confidently said, “What else is there out there?”

“Isn’t that the point of going there… to see what’s there? You know, do some digging and exploring?”

“Look Harry,” Mr. Weasley said in a sympathetic tone, “Muggles are good, but not that good. They are after candles, not other stuff. Trust me.”

The put-down bothered Harry so he countered with his ace card by saying, “They created Magic Eye books, didn’t they?”

Well, that did it. Both Hagrid and Mr. Weasley picked up the gauntlet that Harry tossed down. The discussion became hot surprisingly quickly.

Harry stood there listening as Hagrid and Mr. Weasley went back and forth on the topic of magic eye books. The discussion swirled about what is magic. Well, discussing what is magic is a never ending circle that no one can adequately define as even a simple slay of hand can easily be defined as high magic to the uninitiated. That is why Harry stood there, listening with an all-knowing smirk on his face. He kept the question about muggle magic squares for a later date.

It happened in Harry’s fourth year at Hogwarts. Harry was leaving the library when he noticed a small first year sitting alone: slowly crying. Harry knew the kid had a rough life of being born into a muggle family who were not supportive of him going to Hogwarts. Harry turned about and went to see what was going on. On the table in front of the boy was a calendar. The top had a picture while the bottom had the calendar.

Harry checked the immediate area before saying, “Hi David, what’s going on?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders while he fished for a handkerchief to dab his eyes.

While David tried to pull himself together, Harry had a look at the picture in the calendar. It was nothing he recognized or would call it art. So he flipped to the front and saw it was a Magic Eye calendar. Anything with the word ‘Magic’ in it had Harry’s interest.

“What’s this?” Harry asked.

“To help me with class,” Was David’s diminutive reply.

“What? The picture?”

“No, the bottom. List of assignments.”

On closer inspection, Harry could see the carefully listed assignments. The list was neatly printed out in pencil. Harry winced at how his list was always kept by Hermione, as he was a bit forgetful.

“So what’s the problem?”

David’s hand slowly moved from his lap to the picture. He tapped the picture three times while saying nothing.

“Bit messy,” Harry said.

That’s when David asked, “Can you see it?”

“What?”

“Pegasus?”

“Ah… what’s that?” Harry had to ask.

David gave Harry a puzzled look before saying, “Pegasus, the flying horse.”

“Where?”

“There, in the picture,” David said as he continued to tap the picture.

That’s when Harry picked up the calendar and studied the picture closer. He looked at it for several minutes before admitting, “Nope. All I see is messy stuff.”

“You’re like the others, you can’t see it.”

“Okay, where exactly is it?”

“Right there in the middle. Covers most of the page.”

“In the middle, right there?” Harry asked as he pointed to the middle of the picture.

David nodded and put out his hand for the calendar. Harry handed it to David who quickly flipped to the inside cover. There were listed Magic Eye instructions. He handed the calendar back with, “You better read this.”

“Instructions?”

Harry sat down and went over the instructions three times, as he was not grasping what was written. He had never heard of making your eyes go all squiggly while pulling the picture back from your nose. He tried in several times before asking David what he was doing wrong. David did his best to help. Harry tried following the instructions with out success.

“Have you made it work?” Harry asked.

“No.”

“Then how do you know Pegasus is there?”

David flipped to the back where there were twelve images of the hidden pictures and David pointed at Pegasus.

Harry picked up the calendar and tried again and again. It was on his next try that something happened. Harry literally jumped back while dropping the calendar.

“What happened?” an excited David asked.

“Don’t know,” Was Harry’s nervous reply.

“But you saw something?”

“Don’t know,” Harry said as he carefully picked up and opened the calendar. He was not sure what happened or why. So he tried again. This time trying to remember what he did the last time. However, nothing happened. He tried two more times both with nothing happening.

“Okay, I give up,” Harry said with a tinge of disillusion. Then he asked, “So, what’s the problem?”

“I can’t see any of it. Boys back in Junior School could and made fun of me. Called me Squints, bat eyes, or Dumbo.”

“What? Just because you couldn’t see the pictures?”

“It was pretty big at school. Then I come here and no one believes me there are pictures there,” pointing at the calendar, “and they make fun of me all over again.”

“Yeh, know what you mean. People don’t believe me. But I believe you on this one.”

“You do?”

“Sure. Saw something, didn’t I”

Feeling somewhat encouraged, David had to ask, “Ever heard of a sonic screwdriver?”

Harry quickly looked up and said, “Don’t push it David, don’t push it.”  Then he asked, “Okay if I borrow this for a bit?”

“Sure,” said David, then he quickly added, “You think you can crack it?”

With a wide smile, Harry said, “Of course I do.” With that, Harry picked up the calendar and headed back to the Gryffindor Tower as he had homework to do and was hoping for help from Hermione.

It took Harry about a week before he started to see the Magic Eye pictures. Once he got the hang of it, he found it simple to let his eyes go all squiggly and the picture appeared in all its 3-D glory. Harry felt it was a pretty neat calendar until he showed it to Ron and Hermione.

Ron went on the defensive by saying muggles had no magic and that Magic Eye books were all fakes as no wizard has ever seen or made any hidden picture appear. Then Ron hinted that Magic Eye was great big muggle lie.

Hermione agreed with Ron in saying no wizard or witch had ever made a 3-D picture appear out of a Magic Eye book. She agreed with Ron that Magic Eye was fake.

The straightest answer came from Hagrid, when he said, “It’s new from muggles and still under investigation by the Ministry,” and then he added, “The ministry has had several conversations with the muggle Prime Minister on how muggles developed this new fangled form of magic that the Ministry had never heard of or knew about.” Harry looked at Hagrid but never had the courage to ask him anything more about Magic Eye.

Harry thought Mr. Weasley surely knew all there was about Magic Eye as he was infatuated by muggle things. However, Mr. Weasley said it was a muggle plot to destabilize the wizarding world by saying they had magic that wizards did not.

Which all summed up to make Magic Eye a divisive issue as muggles could do what witches and wizards could not: see the hidden picture.

After a while things calmed down in the tent and Hagrid finished off his meal and Harry did the dishes. He did them a bit slow to let the prevailing calmness develop a bit.

After the meal and dishes, the three of them gathered about the good fire Hagrid had started. With his feet stretched out, left hand scratching Fang’s head, Hagrid started to tell a story about days gone by. “You know it was 1940 when I made the train journey to Hogwarts. Jus’ a small boy, on the same train, from the same platform, as you lot. Yep, that was me. A small scared boy. Good thing I knew a couple or other boys as we sorta grew up together. Mothers went to the same Lamaze class. If I remember rightly, you weren’t too different Arthur in 1961, and like you Harry in 1991. All part of growing up Wizard. Two good years and then things turned in the third year. Tom Riddle was not a nice person even back then. I was lucky to have Professor Dumbledore on my side, much like you Harry. At least I got to stay at Hogwarts. That’s when I moved out to the junior gamekeeper’s cottage. That’s when I got to know the gardener.

“Seems back in the old days Hogwarts had its own gardener who looked after the place. He had a large greenhouse for growing small plants and then moved them outside at the right time. Not many folks were willing or wanting to talk to me back then: not so the gardener. I think he liked to talk, as there was no one about to talk to. Some said he talked to the plants, which was a load of nonsense. He talked to the plants as much as you or I talk to dogs or cats…”

“…or dragons,” Harry added. Then he realized he interrupted Hagrid’s flow and kept quiet.

“As I was say’en,” Hagrid said as he picked up his train of thought, “The gardener was a really interesting person. He was interested in the plants he worked with, the trees he pruned, the fruit he picked, and stuff like that. What I liked the most was he treated me like a real person. Like, he would ask me what I thought about this or that. Now me being a young and all that didn’t put him off, in fact it sort of helped me see things sort of differently. Opened my eyes to new notions.

“Other boys weren’t interested in plants and the like. Not so me and the gardener. We were always outside doing stuff and sometimes taking off into the forest. See, there are some things you can only learn here in the forest that don’t exist outside. So we would come here and do some looking and poking and tramping about. Sorta made up for the stuff I weren’t allowed to do since I was kicked out of school.

“Sure Professor Dumbledore knew what was going on. He’d drop by to chat every now and again. Spent a bit of time with the gardener himself. Don’t know what they talked about. Important stuff I’d suppose. Mean to say, two great men talking so quietly as they walked about the place.

“The gardener was always looking for ways to interest other kids in his way of life. Many thought it too boring, but they didn’t know. Or thought it too silly to get your hands dirty or bitten by some bug or other. Then there were some that thought that being a gardener didn’t take any magic: just playin’ in the dirt with silly plants. That’s not what Professor Snape thought of the gardener. Those two were always off somewhere looking for this or that. Stuff only found in the forest. Stuff Professor Snape loved to go looking for. Being the potions master made him very partial to certain herbs, mushrooms, toadstools, and some red fungus that only grew on dead Obegus trees.

“Never really liked Professor Snape, just knew Professor Dumbledore and the gardener trusted him and that was good enough for me.” Turning to face Harry, Hagrid added, “Just thought you should know that Harry.”

Harry smiled and replied with, “Yeh, I know what you mean.”

Then Hagrid continued with, “The gardener was always busy and always talking about his father as he learnt everything he knew from his father. Thought that odd at first, then I realized that me mum taught me to read, write and do basic ‘rithmatic. She made sure I could eat proper without making too much of a mess. Drink without spilling a lot and teaching me how to do the wash. She taught me an awful lot that I still remember to do.

“Then every autumn it was time for picking and planning on pruning. The gardener said that without pruning, a good tree would never happen. It needed digging, pruning, looking after and even grafting in some other braches every now and again. Never did get the hang of grafting in… grafting out sounded fine, ‘jus not grafting in. Then again, that’s why he was the head gardener and I was a young‘ en trying to learn.

“Even though he was the gardener he was awful good with animals.” Turning to Mr. Weasley, Hagrid asked, “Remember your time with those Diggerrubs?”

“I really don’t think this is the time or place to discuss Diggerrubs,” Mr. Weasley replied in a somewhat cold tone. Changing the topic he asked, “What I’d really like to know is how you got out of the clutches of all those spiders during the battle at Hogwarts. I thought they had you as were rolling all over the place.”

“Had me? You thought that? Bunch of spiders having me for lunch. Not on your life. Aragog's carnivorous children might have had thoughts outside their ability to deliver. Once outside the castle I got to my feet and started kicking the crap out of them ungrateful brats and gave them a taste of my umbrella. Trouble was by the time I did all that there were a might too many death eaters about. Sorta found myself surrounded and Voldemort heading my way. An’ you know the rest of the story.” Reflectively Hagrid added, “Strange how children never turn out like their parents.”

Sensing Hagrid losing the thread of the story, Harry quickly asked, “Where is the gardener now?”

“Gone. Gone one day early in April. Said he had something to finish off and would be back soon. Jus’ took off like that and never came back. That’s when I started asking more about the gardener and the more puzzling it got. Seems only Professor Dumbledore Snape really knew he was here working on the grounds. Other people wouldn’t remember him, only shrug their shoulders. Then I’d ask, ‘Who do you think kept all the flowers fresh and proper?’ and all I’d get was blank looks. It was like he was here and not really here. Then I’d remember all the times we were going tramping through the wood an’ I could recall the names of things. That’s how I knew the gardener was real because of all the things he learnt me.

“There were twelve unicorns that were his favorites. Most uncommon to have unicorns that friendly, but they were. Not as fussy as Centaurs, these unicorns would allow the gardener to sit on their backs when they saw him grow tired or needing a rest. The gardener would use the unicorns, not owls, to pass messages to the other animals in the forest. Sorta like a private letter service. The gardener would tell the unicorns that would then pass the message on to others who would pass it on further down the line. Worked just fine until Riddle came along and everything changed for the worse.

Hagrid paused for a moment as he thought about Tom Riddle. “Riddle was a bad influence. He liked to promise stuff that was appealing for now only to bind later. Trouble was, once caught in his web; there was little chance of going back. Riddle saw to that. Riddle met the gardener only the once. It was like Riddle wanted to see for himself what the gardener was like. Riddle did all the talking. He liked to do that. Sorta hogged up the conversation to show off how good he was with his flash magic and boasts of what he had done. When the gardener did nothing but look and listen, Riddle ran out of steam and left. The gardener said nothing as he got up and went back into his small cottage. Later I asked the gardener about Riddle. He never said one bad word about the lad: always looking for the good in all of us.

“Anyways, it was the gardener that got me through the bad patch and sorta took me under his wing. Just what I needed at that time. And now I sorta carry on the tradition of gardener and animal keeper for Hogwarts.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Mr. Weasley interjected in a slow and thoughtful way. “If I remember correctly there was that young girl that almost had you expelled.”

“Never proven.” Hagrid said too quickly. “She went into the forest on her own. Should have known better. We found her… eventually.”

“That’s not what she said,” Mr. Weasley countered with. Then added, “She said you were with her.”

“Look Arthur, we have been round and round on this for years. Professor Dumbledore and Gennsburt heard all the evidence and concluded she had been drinking Gungleprunes that gave her nightmares.”

“Nightmares about you swinging through the forest from vine to vine.”

“Just what I said, her stories weren’t right. And I was Scot free.”

“Until it happened the second time.”

“And that was her younger sister. Professor Dumbledore said it ran in the family.”

Finally realizing these two men had predictable rolls to play, Harry said, “I’m turning in early. Guess we got a long day tomorrow.”

Hagrid quickly looked at Harry and said, “We are behind schedule so tomorrow will be long ‘un.” Harry gave a nod and headed to his bed looking for some good rest. Harry considered himself fit, but that was using magic to get from one place to another. It had been a very long time since he had done so much walking, let alone walking through a forest.

When Harry’s head hit the pillow, it was only a couple of seconds before he drifted off to a sound and restorative sleep that he needed. As usual, he dreamed a dream of Ginny.

 


	2. Wizards and Cooking

 

_There is a true way,_  
_A right way, and a wrong way_  
_To live life to the fullest._  
_Pick wrong and the consequences are long._

 

Wizards and witches are very proud of the culinary expertise. Their skills come from a period before time was invented. In other words, they have been excellent cooks for a very long time.

Going back to the time when wizards and muggles were happy to live together there was a common knowledge of food. This understanding continued to grow and develop until the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was enforced in 1689.

It was the year 1689 as muggles were in the throws of replacing King James II with William and Mary. It might have been a Glorious Revolution for some, not for others. The politics of the day rolled over into muggle - wizard relationship that hit rock bottom that year.

The breaking point came when the muggles passed the Bill of Rights and totally excluded witches and wizards from the parchment. For safety sake, the wizarding community disappeared in self-preservation. That is when Memory Charms came into common usage.

Despite the break-up muggles continued to progress their culinary skills, more so in France than in other parts of the world.

The first major change in food preparation came in the 1960’s with the invention of the muggle frozen meal. Wizards were aghast at this development. It went against everything ever taught, discussed, or even thought of. The Ministry of Magic quickly created a committee to look into this frozen development.

Sensing a movement, the Ministry quickly created a department called “Home Grown and Fresh.” The thrust of the department was to promote having a garden at home from which wizards and witches could grow their own.

Actually it was nothing new to wizarding communities since wizards preferred a quiet country life rather than living in towns and cities with everyone living on top of everyone else.

Living in the country was easy, convivial, allowed for big wizard parties and a Quidditch pitch out back. Being wizard had the added benefit of quick and reliable forms of transportation. Which meant going somewhere was not a time consuming affair as it was for muggles. And that’s why living in a quiet corner of the British Isles was not an issue. Actually several important wizards sought out the more quiet parts because they were getting too many wizards just ‘popping in for a quick chat.’

Loch Ness is a lovely quiet spot except for the so-called monster that set up home there years before any muggle or wizard ever set eye on the place. Once muggles discovered the creature of the deep, wizards moved out looking for a quiet life.

Scotland’s Giant’s Causeway was first called the Devil’s Causeway to keep the muggles away. I worked for many years because the wizards had learnt to add heavy squally rain, hail, and sharp lighting. Seeing muggles were interested in coming, the local wizards built single track roads. That works a treat keeping pesky muggles at bay: especially the American type who can’t seem to drive a standard car, let alone driving a standard car down narrow country lanes.

St. Andrews used to be a lovely quiet place until some wizard invented golf. He changed a snake it to a putter and converted a frog into a small round ball. While out walking on the beach and links, he would knock the ball along as a change to looking at the waves coming in and listening to the wind blowing through the sea grass. The game soon caught on in the wizarding community and that is why there are no snakes in the British Isles: they were all changed to clubs of various sizes. Once muggles got in on the game, wizards moved out of the St. Andrews area for quieter pastures.

Even for witches and wizards having a producing garden has been seen as a badge of honor. This was something every wizard, no matter what class or stature, could accomplish. Obviously, the upper class employed gardeners and horticulturists to produce bigger and better produce while the run of the mill wizard stayed with the traditional fruit and veg of the heirloom variety. That is where the famous saying of, ‘Heirloom today, on the plate tomorrow’ came from. There was something deeply satisfying knowing that the seeds used today have been passed down from generation to generation. In fact, many wizards and witches delve into heirloom genealogy just as deep and far as regular genealogy.

Some of the so called pure blood people feel the mixing of heirloom seeds is just as bad as marrying the wrong type of person. Therefore, before the matrimony proposal was publicized, the father of the groom would hire certain people to do research into the health and breadth of the bride’s heirloom seeds. If everything looked kosher, the marriage would proceed, if things looked questionable, then the couple parted under a cloud of suspicion. No one wanted to be accused of having poor quality heirloom seeds.

All the oldest known seeds were designated as _Adam’s Own_. Of all the _Adams Own_ seeds, the apple seed stands paramount: for obvious reasons. The families that had the vast majority of _Adam’s Own_ seeds were old families that had unquestionable genealogical provenance. Of course, the buying and selling of seeds went on. However, the buying and selling of _Adam’s Own_ usually went on behind closed doors. No one wanted to be accused of selling out to the nouveau riche.

Harry was introduced to heirloom seeds while at the Weasley’s. Sitting at the kitchen table Mrs. Weasley would wax eloquently about the seeds from her family. It was like each variety had a story and the story included various family members. Of all the stories Harry liked it was the ones about Pirate Bill. Pirate Bill lived in Devon and Cornwall during the 1700’s. Rather than keeping to wizard ways Pirate Bill reviled in being a pirate, a muggle pirate working late at night bringing booty ashore before the revenue men came along..

It seems Pirate Bill was very active on the north coast of Cornwall, particularly around Portwenn, through St. Teath, St. Tudy, St. Breward, Wenford Bridge and on to Jamaica Inn or Bolventor Church up on Bodmin Moor.

During his early days, Pirate Bill would allow himself to be caught so that his muggle friends could escape the clutches of the excise men. During the night, he would comfortably slip out to tell his comrades some daring escape or such like. Later on, Pirate Bill became so well known that there was a hansom price upon his head: dead or alive.

One Sunday Pirate Bill found out about the burial vault beneath Bolventor Church. It was after a heavy southwester storm that hit the moor. Being somewhat pious, Pirate Bill attended church every Sunday. During the sermon, deep knocking noises were heard coming from the very ground beneath their feet. It sounded like two boats hitting each other. Old mother Spencer could not stand the noise and ran out of the church screeching aloud that the very dead were rising from their graves to steal their souls. Parson Glennie kept on going through his somewhat long sermon. Nothing could stop him in his desperation to save their souls from never-ending damnation.

After church Pirate Bill and Master Ratsay, the local stonemason, walked around the church looking at the ground to see what damage the storm had inflicted upon the church. This was how Pirate Bill learned about the crypt under the church that belonged to the De La Hune family.

The De La Hune family came with William the Conqueror from France. As payment for his unwavering loyalty and service, the De La Hune family received a large portion of north Cornwall from the crown. By the 1750’s the only thing the De La Hune family owned were legends, stories, the crypt and a gold locket owned by the last De La Hune in the area.

The usual way into the De La Hune crypt was through an indoor door located close to the alter. In front of the alter was a rather lavish monumental brass of the first De La Hune. Money has its privileges.

Once Pirate Bill knew about the crypt, he set his mind to creating a passage into the crypt from the outside. He concluded if a couple of old coffins floating about can scare the death out of the locals, then a coupe barrels of fine Spanish wine should be capable of doing the same. Once completed, the church became a very useful storage location. Going from the church to Jamaica Inn was an easy run done when the coast was clear on well lit nights when sensible people were fast asleep in bed.

Pirate Bill had a horticultural fascination. Since Cornwall is not known for its deep soil, Pirate Bill took to using some of his wine, claret and port barrels for growing things in. They did rather well. This interest became well known to the extent that the excise men were regular visitors to the garden poking their musket knives into the barrels making sure there was nothing illegal buried in the dirt.

The lowly English seeds that Pirate Bill used became tainted with the barrel’s original content to produce new strains. It was these new heirloom seeds that passed down through the generations finally ending up in the Weasley’s garden: before the gnomes moved in.

When Harry wandered through his parent’s house, he popped into the kitchen and noticed seed trays in the pantry. All the seeds were in straight rows and each row was neatly labeled in his mother’s handwriting. Several rows were labeled as _Adam’s Own_. To Harry there was something deeply satisfying to see how diligent his parents were in using and carrying on the family heirloom seed lines.

Heirloom seeds produced heirloom food that was the pride of every wizard’s dining room table. In times of picking, over production was stored in glass jars for use in winter times, and for sharing with those less fortunate or had fallen on hard times. Wizards and witches strongly believed in the saying, ‘Pray if everything depended on the Lord and work as if everything depended on yourself.’ They also held to the other saying, ‘Faith without works is dead, being alone.’

Through using their own heirloom seeds families developed certain culinary skills that lent themselves to presenting their seeds in a favorable light.

In the autumn, once the harvest has been gathered home, each wizarding locality has a harvest home celebration. This is one of the biggest get-togethers on the wizarding calendar. The designated Saturday usually starts on Thursday with the large tents going up, temporary paddocks erected, feed and water laid on, and so on. That Thursday, families start gathering at the various sites for family gatherings. Friday morning is set apart for general family activities. Friday afternoon and evening is dedicated for the family displays in the various tents. Everyone is allowed to wander around the camp site looking at the competition whether it be seeds, preserves, pies, designer dresses, flashy suits, cows, rabbits, and the list goes on and on.

Since the exhibit is vast, most families compete only in a specialized area that they have been competing in for the last several hundred years or so. That way the family can pass down the lines certain skills that seem to work year after year with certain slight modifications to keep the competition guessing.

Mrs. Weasley liked to talk about her Dauntierre ancestors. They specialized in pies. Their pies of choice were apple and raspberry, and apple and rhubarb. Because they had _Adams Own_ apples, the Dauntierre family started with a huge advantage. There is nothing quite like the white, crisp, and juicy _Adams Own_ apple. It is everything a first class apple should be. The variation comes from the raspberries and rhubarb. Their quality depends on the location they are picked from.

Because the Dauntierre family specializes in raspberries and rhubarb, they have an extensive patch for them. This allows for selective cultivation and selection at harvest time. By understanding the quality of the soil through careful enhancements, the family could present pies that are consistently in the top three spots. Their highlight occurred in 1791, 2 & 3 when they won first and second place, three years in a row, for their apple and rhubarb pies.

When muggles developed Cryogenic TV meals the Ministry of Magic immediately created a panel of enquiry to delve into this new development. Questions were posed to the muggle Prime Minister. The wizarding community wanted to know what he was doing about this poor development. All the Prime Minister did was stand there, wringing his hands, and muttered that TV meals were progress.

A few TV meals were bought by witches and wizards to see what all the kafuffle was about. They became very popular at the fairs to show how bad a meal could be. The other popular use was at the _Meal in Your Face_ competition. This is when one person is used as a target and the other person had to stand at least twenty feet away and throw unthawed TV dinners at the target person. The winner was the person that had thrown the most food at the target person that had actually stayed on the target person. Of course spells were not allowed as that was cheating.

The general consensus was this competition was a great use for frozen TV dinners.

From the time TV dinners were invented, the Ministry of Magic had a small cadre of testers and searchers out in muggle supermarkets watching and documenting the steady decline in home made meals being made and the increase in poor quality ready-made meals.

That is why wizards are so proud to uphold their long-standing tradition of making homemade meals from their own heritage seeds.


	3. Forest Dwellers Going Home

**May 26, 1998, Tuesday**

_When we run, we look down at the ground._  
_When we work we look down at the desk._  
_When we read we look down at the book._

 _By looking down we miss the sky,_  
_the birds, the trees,_  
_and our family._

 

The hand covered Harry’s face so tightly he could not yell or scream a warning to the others. Harry struggled to get to his wand from under his pillow. He struggled hard until Hagrid whispered in his ear. “Stop ruddy wigglin'. It’s me.” Gently Hagrid removed his hand and put his finger up to his lips.

Quietly Hagrid and Harry tiptoed into the main tent area. Already sitting in his chair was Mr. Weasley. Holding his finger up to his lips, Hagrid looked from one to the other. They got the message. Then Hagrid pointed up to the ceiling and there, hanging down was a rather long extendable ear. Its design was not a Weasley design. This was something new.

Harry looked carefully at the extendable ear and a cold feeling swept over him. Subconsciously Harry reached for his wand and the pouch around his neck. Harveture had suddenly taken a back seat to this new development.

With deliberation, and dexterity, Hagrid moved the carpet to one side to reveal a solid wooden trap door. The trap door was plum center of the room. Hagrid carefully lifted the trap door and climbed down and out of sight of Harry and Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley closed the trap door but did not replace the carpet.

The trap door had Harry hopping from one foot to the other all the while gesticulating wildly at the trap door. Mr. Weasley waved him away and silently pulled out his muggle newspaper. Harry was fuming at this sudden change of events, but what could he do? Hagrid was off somewhere down a trap door that should not be in a tent, and Mr. Weasley was quite content to let Hagrid take off like that with out so much as a ‘by your leave.’ Without making any noise, Harry sat down while the look on his face said it all.

They sat there for three hours until six o’clock when their wakeup alarm went off. Mr. Weasley folded his newspaper up and replaced it carefully away and then said, in a calm voice, “You up Harry? Time to get breakfast going.”

Taking his queue from that, Harry let out a large yawn and replied, “Guess so.”

Harry made all the applicable noises and asked the proper breakfast questions and Mr. Weasley gave the correct answers as he wandered about the tent and the immediate area while waiting for breakfast. Without appearing too obvious, Mr. Weasley was trying to spot the other end of the extendable ear. He could not see it in the thick area they were camped in.

They tried their best to carry on as normal as possible while churning inside and bursting to ask each other questions.

Breakfast was a simple meal of poached eggs, Scottish bacon, a generous portion of sliced Haggis, left over Hinze baked beans and toast made from good solid Scottish bread.

The conversation between Harry and Mr. Weasley was stilted at best, as they tried to carry on as normal conversation knowing someone could be listening in.

After the two of them had finished their meal, Harry made up a plate for Hagrid. Harry made sure there was enough to satisfy him after tramping about somewhere after something, while leaving behind the others who knew nothing of what alerted Hagrid to get up and get going.

Slowly Harry did the dishes, slowly dried them and slowly put everything away. Once finished with the dishes, glumness came over him.

That was when Mr. Weasley snapped his fingers, jumped up and went over to his trunk, flipped the lid and put his head deep inside. Harry could see Mr. Weasley was digging long and hard for something. The digging went on for a good five minutes then he reemerged with a huge smile on his face while holding up two small cubes on key chains. Harry was not impressed and it showed.

Mr. Weasley waved Harry over and gave one of the key chains to Harry. Then, taking hold of opposite corners of his cube, Mr. Weasley pulled gently. As he pulled on the corners, the cube stayed the same thickness, but grew in size. When it was about half inch thick and the size of an A8 piece of paper Mr. Weasley stopped pulling and flipped it over to be right way up.

Harry’s attitude had changed dramatically and did the same to his cube.

Mr. Weasley tugged on Harry’s sleeve to get his undivided attention. Then he waved his hand over the tablet and as he did so words appeared. They read, “Magic tablets from my time at Hogwarts. Think what you want to say and then wave your hand across the screen and it will appear.”

Harry’s eyes popped out at the words. Then he looked at Mr. Weasley. Then he looked back at the tablet in his hands. Thinking hard, Harry waved his hand over the tablet and, “What’s going on?” appeared.

“Don’t know.” Was Mr. Weasley’s reply.

“What happened with Hagrid?” Asked Harry.

“Must have heard something. He nearly killed me this morning.”

“Me to.” Then Harry quickly added, “A trap door in the tent?”

“They all do. Magic tents do. You’ll catch up on thinks like that.”

“Did you see anything outside?”

“No. Bushes and undergrowth thick about here.”

“So, we are being spied upon?”

“Looks that way.” After a pause Mr. Weasley added, “But why us?”

There was no real replay to the question so Harry sidestepped the issue with, “What do we do now?”

“Wait for Hagrid. And don’t ask me how long.”

“Okay.”

 “Want to play cribbage to kill time?”

Harry thought for a moment. Of all the card games cribbage was the one Mr. Weasley liked the most as it was a muggle game. Moreover, when he found out Harry knew how to play, they had spent many hours slapping cards and moving match sticks about the board. Of course, none of the Weasley kids ever bothered learning muggle games as they thought them lame. “Harry waved his hand over his tablet and “Okay” appeared.

With that, Mr. Weasley pulled out his trusty cribbage board, the box of used muggle matchsticks and a new deck of cards. Harry knew he had to keep a close eye on Mr. Weasley and the cards. Even though it was a muggle game, Mr. Weasley was not averse to slipping in a bit of magic every now and again. Harry learned a bitter lesson the very first time he played Mr. Weasley so many years ago. Harry assumed Mr. Weasley would be upright and honest: He was not. Every time Mr. Weasley shuffled the cards, they would magically sort themselves into order to give him aces’, ten’s and faces. Harry, on the other hand always got junk.

That continued until Mrs. Weasley bopped her husband on the head and reminded him that Harry was only a first year and not an adult. From that point onward, Mr. Weasley was a bit more careful in his dealing with Harry. From that point on Harry was always wary of Mr. Weasley and decided to spend some time in the library learning counter-card spells. Harry quickly found out you can’t learn counter-card spells without knowing what a card spell is and how you do them. And that is how Harry developed into a bit of a card shark that resulted in no one wanting to play muggle cards with him, as they couldn’t see how he was cheating.

Harry’s favorite card game was Pontoon. It was fast, furious and fun. And since they didn’t play for money, no one lost out. That is except Neville. Neville was not a card player. He forgot the rules and, somehow, always dropped his cards. Pontoon, Cribbage and Backgammon were Harry’s three favorite board games. He’d play chess, but only with Ron as Ron would try and help Harry get better by suggesting certain moves.  As Harry got better at regular chess, Ron was moving into tri-dimensional chess games that only serious players transitioned to. Despite Ron’s persistent requests tri-dimensional chess, it was never recognized at Hogwarts as a game worth pursuing as battle chess was proving too popular with the members of the Hogwarts Chess Team.

A card spell Harry consistently used on Mr. Weasley was a counter-sort- spell. It was one of the very first Harry did in a non-verbal way. The spell countered Mr. Weasley’s card order spell that, even after manifold shuffling, the cards were still in order. Once Harry broke Mr. Weasley’s grip on card shuffling, Mr. Weasley countered with an anti-counter shuffling spell. Fortunately for Harry he could see Mr. Weasley concentrating on the spell and knew something was going on. Therefore, Harry countered the anti-counter shuffling spell with an overlay spiral deviancy amplification spell. This spell came from Hermione as she was chasing something important through the library. The deviancy was slight but enough to break Mr. Weasley’s grip of placing the cards back in order despite numerous shuffling.

Someone, Harry never found out who, alerted Mr. Weasley to Harry’s new spell. That was when Mr. Weasley stepped up his investigations in to the muggle maze of ‘Defining Deviancy Down’ as a method of countering Harry’s new spell. It worked, but only for a while. Once Harry suspected outside help he turned to Professor Vector for help with Arithmancy and Divination by Numbers. Of course she refused since Harry was not one of her pupils. Hermione finally helped Harry out of his predicament. As it was something she enjoyed doing and was a diversion from the normal homework she received from Professor Vector.

From that point on it was absolute war between the Harry and Mr. Weasley despite being totally polite with each other as they played. Each knew the other was doing their absolute best to cheat and win every hand.

Cribbage was created by the British in India and has remained a popular muggle game. Because of the rules, there are plenty places that a good wizard could embellish his or her point count. The faster the game goes the more chances of point stacking occurs.

Both players were distracted by the departure of Hagrid and by the extendable ear hanging in the tent. Despite the tablets, Harry and Mr. Weasley were not chatting or communicating too much. Actually they were going through the motions to kill time. They were waiting for something to happen. The trouble was, no one knew what could or should happen next.

That was until they both heard a noise from under their feet. Both Harry and Mr. Weasley jumped up, grabbed their wands and pointed them at the trap door that opened with a loud crash. Out of the very belly of the earth emerged a very dirty Hagrid.

“Put yer wands away. It’s only me.” Hagrid said after he climbed out of the underground passage way. “Last night heard somethin’, didn’t I. Thought is better to investigate. So I did.” As he was speaking Hagrid reached up and pulled down the extendable ear. He proceeded to scrunch it up and tossed it into the rubbish bin. “No need for that, is there?”

“Did you find anything?” A worried Mr. Weasley asked.

“Corse I did. Lots going on.” Hagrid paused and he brushed his sides to shake off the dust and dirt from his clothes. Being so large Hagrid seemed to attract more than his fair share of dust and dirt.

“Like?” Mr. Weasley tentatively asked.

“Hold yer horses. Need to clean out the dust from my whistle.” With that Hagrid reached for a jug of cool water. He drank it down in one go. “Ah, that did the trick. Sit down an’ we’ll talk.” The three of them got comfortable and Hagrid started with, “ Seems you’re famous Harry. Everyone knows what you did. Tourists are already going to the battle site to look about and see. An’ a play been written about you an’ the battle.

“Seems everyone, as in everyone, was there at the battle, all fighting on our side. If I count everyone who says they were there I’d have about three million on our side and only Voldemort on his side. Typical how people are. After the battle they all sign up on the winning side. Sad really, when you think of it. Want the glory, jes’ not willing to put up a fight for it.

“We’re in the middle of several large families drifting home. Most were at the battle. They stayed for a while and then did some side visits here and there while over this way. You know, see the sights. Meet old friends. Talk over battle stories. And now its time to go home. Seems there is going to be one last gathering at the Pan Stones. Seems they goin to put on the battle play. Seems they have someone famous playing my part.” Looking at Harry, Hagrid said, “Not sure about your part.” Then looking at Mr. Weasley, he added, “You goin' to be okay? Your family is in it pretty good…”

 “What?” Harry said as the realization of a play sunk in. In a very startled voice he added, “There’s already a play about me?”

“Well, there has to be. You, your parents, and the others. That’s how people learned what happened. News don’t travel very fast in some parts of the forest. Mostly word of mouth, letters, and the like. Newspapers and owls aren’t that common. It’s jus’ different here.”

“Come on Hagrid,” Mr. Weasley said as he got to his feet. “These aren’t backward people we are talking about. These are witches and wizards: just like you and me.”

“True, true. All true Arthur. However, they like a slower pace of life. Live closer to the soil from where they come. Move and gather; enjoy the location before moving on. Nomads I suppose you would call them.” Hagrid paused as he looked up at the sky.

The look on Mr. Weasley’s face changed rapidly as he thought about how the battle unfolded. He gave a shudder and dropped his head down. So fresh, so devastating, so final, and so personal. Having a play about the battle at Hogwarts seemed like a bit sacrilegious. Okay, maybe more callous than sacrilegious. Then he realized he wasn’t the only parent to lose family members. Maybe others had different thoughts.

“Who’s playing Voldemort?” Harry asked. “ Might as well know who I’m going to kill.”

Mr. Weasley fired a cold look at Harry. Harry missed it, as he was deep in thought. Having a play about the battle didn’t sit well with him.

Looking between the two of them, Hagrid could see things were not right. “Look you two, this is how people are out here in the woods. Same as it has been for hundreds of years. Stories of brave deeds and sad events are preserved in these here plays. They don’t have books they have plays and storytellers. You’ve never sat though the play of the first war against Voldemort and how you defeated him…”

“You mean there is already a play about me? From the first war?”

“Corse there were. Had to be really, when you think about it. Best thing that happened to everyone and everyone celebrated. Voldemort was gone and you lived. Nothing better than that.”

“Bit premature,” Mr. Weasley said quietly.

“It were, it were,” Hagrid added. A quietness descended on the three of them. It was Hagrid who filled in the void. He gathered his thoughts then said, “The gardener, he introduced them to me. We were out tramping through the forest looking for something or other. He heard them first. He had sharp hearing the gardener did. Knew them all by how they moved through the forest. Each group has a different way of traveling and the gardener knew them all. Jes’ because they live different they are still like you and me. Families are how they live. Each family has a name and then comes the personal name. Like the family we are going to sit with is the family Bolan. The patriarch is Bolan, Swan. Never call him Swan, as that’s not proper. You never forget to use the family name first. See, that is polite and shows respect for their ways. Jes like you Harry. You always called me Hagrid. Never Professor Hagrid, just plain Hagrid. Now, I don’t mind, really I don’t. Be nice though if you call me Rubeus, or even Mister Rubeus… stuff like that would be nice… now that you too are a professor at Hogwarts. But I suppose Hagrid will do.”

“You have us sitting with a family?” A very surprised Mr. Weasley said.

“Corse we do. Once Bolan Swan knew Harry was here he told all the others here about and arranged for as many to come, to come for this one last telling. This is big for these people with Harry front and center in all this…”

“No I’m not.” Harry cut in with.

“What did you say?” Asked Hagrid.

“I’m not going.”

“Sure you are. It’s all about you. You’re famous.”

“I’m here for Mr. Weasley and Harveture. That’s it”

“Sorry Harry you feel that way. Jes, it’s like you did kill Voldemort and forest dwellers are still celebrating. And this is the big one before they drift apart. Doubt if we’ll ever see the like of it again in our lifetime.”

“The battle or the party?”

“The party and the play: silly. Everyone is expecting you.”

“Hagrid, the answer is no. It’s over. Finished. Behind me now. And I want to move on. Create a family of my own. You know, normal stuff.”

“Harry, you will never have a so called normal life.” Mr. Weasley said in a sober tone. “You are set apart from us all. That scar you carry says it all. No matter where you go, what you say, what you do, or what play you see or are in… You are Harry Potter, the person who killed Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort. And there is nothing you can do that can ever change that fact.

“That’s the reason why you of all people must go through Harveture so I know you can handle the pressure because Ginny will be under the same scrutiny as you are now. People will stare at you, your children and grandchildren because they are related to Harry Potter… Harry Potter who killed Tom Riddle and Lord Voldemort.” Then Mr. Weasley added, “Get it?”

Harry kicked the dirt hard then said, “Got it.” Ever since the battle was over Harry had been hoping things would change. Change for the better and he could go back to being a small boy in a big world where no one recognized of cared about him. The anonymity the Dursley’s offered became clearer as Harry appreciated Professor Dumbledore’s decision even more. That insignificance ended once he entered Hogwarts and faced Tom Riddle in all his diabolical forms.

Harry snapped to attention, stuffed his hands deep into his trousers pockets, looked at Hagrid and then at Mr. Weasley, then said, “Okay, I can do it. Let’s go to the play and make sure the play tells the truth so it’s passed on properly. I’m okay with that if you are Mr. Weasley?”

Mr. Weasley looked coldly at Hagrid and then back to Harry. The Battle was still fresh in his mind, fresh in his loss, and the wound was not healing well. “So long as Molly is shown properly.” Mr. Weasley said in a definitive voice. “I want her to be remembered as a fighter. Someone who defends the family honor to the death. I want people to always remember her in all her terrible temper and fanatical wand skills.”

“Don’t ask too much do you,” Hagrid commented as he studied the two of them. Seeing their firmness he quickly added, “See what I can do.”

That was when Mr. Weasley gave Hagrid a withering look and said, “No Hagrid… do it or we don’t go. Right Harry?”

“Right!” said Harry as he knew that was the right answer his future father-in-law was looking for.

Hagrid looked from one to the other. He knew he was outnumbered. “Okay then. I better be off to chat. Why don’t you start breaking camp in, say, a couple of hours.”

“I’d think it’s better if we wait for you,” Mr. Weasley said, “You know, just in case you get delayed. Don’t want to be sitting out here in the open with everyone able to look on.”

“Suit yourself.” Huffed Hagrid before took off out of the tent. This time he went out through the main entrance, not the trapdoor in the floor.

Harry threw himself onto the couch to think while Mr. Weasley went to the tent entrance to watch Hagrid take off at high speed into the green forest. He knew Hagrid was not in a happy mood. He had pushed him hard on making sure Molly was portrayed properly. That was the least he could do for the family.

“Mr. Weasley,” Harry began with, “Have you any idea what sort of play Hagrid is talking about?”

“It’s not really a play like you might think of,” replied Mr. Weasley. “It is more of a story, or tale, like they told a long time ago.”

“Long time ago?”

“Think a long, long time ago. A time when news was carried about by tellers, peddlers, ranchards and the like. They would come by with news from other parts. The news, brave deeds, tragic events were told as stories, songs, rounds and the like as the person doing the telling usually was illiterate as were the people listening. Since they could not read, they got the news through these types of presentation.”

“I thought that was the done by Jongleurs, or minstrels or troubadours? Or some type of traveling toupe?”

“They are just about the same. People coming from somewhere, passing by, delivering the news, pick up what is new and then move on. That way the locals stayed up to date and the travelers knew they would be welcome back in the future.

“Now, the biggest news for a long time is you. You are the one who killed Lord Voldemort. That is the big news that has been going out. The news has traveled fast but not so the full story. That needs people to tell the story so that others can experience what happened. So, the facts are molded into the form of a play or tale.”

“So these traveling groups make the news into a story?”

“I guess so. Just telling the news is okay. Like, ‘Harry Potter killed Lord Voldemort’. That is a fact and tells the truth. On the other hand, it misses the whole story of the Battle of Hogwarts and the people at the battle. That’s what they bring to the table and that is what people want to see.

“It’s changed over time. When the Ministry of Magic was created and newspapers became popular, the news and the story behind the news became easier to find. Well, easy for us in the modern world. Out here in the forest, progress is slower. Life out in the forest doesn’t revolve about the Ministry. Out here, people prefer the old ways, old lifestyles, old family relationships. And go on to have a full life. Nothing wrong about.

“Actually, when I was young, there were package holiday you could take with forest dwellers. My family spend two weeks living with a family deep in the woods to ‘get in touch with nature.’ And stuff like that. Things changed as the Ministry got more organized and frowned at the influence forest people had over so called regular witches and wizards. You know, normal people.”

“How do you know so much about these people?”

“My days at Hogwarts were a long time ago, and if you ask Hagrid, he would go back further. In those days, the Ministry was still being developed, so we had more contact with the forbidden forest. It was not discouraged, not like it is today, you know, forbidden to enter.”

“So you knew these people?”

“Not this particular family. I knew the Doctor family. There was Doctor Handles, Barnable, Abramal, Tasha Lem and Theta Sigma along with their families.” Mr. Weasley wistfully added, “We had good times back in those days. Then I graduated, got a job, got married, got kids and that was that. Never went back as life pushed me along other paths.”

“Miss it?”

“I think I miss the youthful interaction of six years of Hogwarts. The Doctor family was part of that time. Just like visiting Hogwarts is fun. Can’t go back. I’ve moved on to other things. Just like the Doctor family has moved on, I suppose, and may not remember me.” Then looking at Harry, Mr. Weasley added, “It was a while ago.”

Harry became lost in his thoughts, as did Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley thinking of his youth and Hogwarts through rose tinted glasses. Harry looking forward to a play about the Battle of Hogwarts: with a degree of trepidation.

It was about noon when Hagrid returned and they packed up camp, checked the area for cleanliness, before moving out. All thoughts of Harveture had vanished as the three men started along the Great East Road toward the pan stones.

“Why the pan stones?” Harry asked a fast moving Hagrid.

“They use it for music. See, they use the natural music in their story telling. Never seen it myself. Heard of it, of course. ‘Jes never seen it done. Should be good.”

“And the play?”

“Don’t worry about that. They have a giant of a feller to play me. He’s good. Should be okay.” Then Hagrid pointed to his right and said, “Bolan family over that way. Sorta escorting us there. Then again, sorta going in the same direction… sorta.”

Harry looked to the right and saw nothing. He kept on looking and kept on seeing nothing. “I don’t see a thing.”

“You’re not supposed to. They keep out of sight only looking our way to make sure we are on the same path.”

“They aren’t on the path, we are.”

“That’s why they are there. Keeping out of our way. It’s like that, see. Until they know you, they make their own path through the forest. Forest dwellers are like that.”

Hagrid led the way down the Great East Road. Even though it was called a road, it was definitely rough going as the road has deteriorated due to lack of maintenance, not clearing away fallen trees, or cutting down thick bushes and thorns. Hagrid was deft in handling his machete through the thicker parts of the road.

It was late afternoon when Hagrid called a halt to their march. He stopped in a small clearing. Small in size but big enough to set up their tent and that meant time for Harry to get to work being the cook. Some Harveture activities would never change.

Harry didn’t mind being the cook as he was left alone while rummaging about through the food boxes. For tonight’s meal he had thought of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, some veg on the side and more apple crumble.

As he got busy in the kitchen there came a knock at the door. Harry could hear the chitchat going between Hagrid and people. Then Hagrid poked his head into the kitchen and said, “Harry, could you step this way. People here to meet you.”

Harry wiped his hands carefully on his blue and white stripped apron and stepped through into the main living area of the tent: complete with a large rug covering the ever-present trap door.

“Harry, this here is Bolan Telegram, Bolan Debora, Bolan Unicorn and Bolan Beep. They are here to meet you and chat about what’s going on.” Knowing Harry’s habits, Hagrid quickly added, “Them Bolan’s don’t shake hands or touch.”

“Oh,” Harry said as he gave a small wave and sort of a bow. All the Bolan’s tittered at his actions.

The Bolan’s were covered from head to toe in various outfits that, despite being different colours and hues, blended nicely. They had a wrap about their heads so only their eyes gleamed through. A short jacket, long sleeved shirt and billowing pantaloons. Their shoes seemed to be too lightweight for tramping up and down the Great East Road. Later Harry found out they were more robust than they look.

Bolan Telegram started first and rambled on and on for quite a while. Harry didn’t understand a single word while Hagrid and Mr. Weasley responded with gusto.

Finally, Mr. Weasley realized Harry was not responding to certain questions and asked, “You following this?”

Harry’s face and Harry’s simple, “No.” was enough.

“Ah, yes, not your average English, is it?” Muttered Hagrid. “Hogwarts dropped languages a while ago.”

Mr. Weasley turned and talked to the Bolan’s while pointing at Harry. They all tittered. Mr. Weasley picked up the conversation and carried on with even more gusto. Every now and again one of the Bolan’s would help Mr. Weasley when he stopped to search for a lost word. Once found, the conversation went forward. Hagrid added his comments in as things progressed.

Harry stood there feeling totally left out: and he was. No one was paying him any attention except for Bolan Beep.

Then Mr. Weasley stepped over to be with Harry. He put his arm around Harry’s shoulder and carried on talking. The only word Harry recognized was Harveture. Mr. Weasley used it several times while beaming at Harry.

The conversation carried on for a good thirty minutes. During all this time, no one asked the Bolan’s to sit, to partake of any refreshments, or to make themselves at home.

When the conversation came to a close, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley held up their right hand Indian style. Harry did the same. The Bolan’s responded in like manner and exited the tent.

“Pew,” Mr. Weasley said when the Bolin’s were out of earshot, “That’s different. You,” he said to Harry, “Are to be specially honored when we get to the Pan Stones.”

“Front and center, you will be,” Hagrid added. “Goin’ to have a personal person to tell you what is going on.” Then he added, “They can speak our English… Forgot to tell you that. Sorry Harry. But you did okay.”

“And we are going to sit behind you.” Mr. Weasley added. “That has never happened before. This is special.” Then Mr. Weasley added, “They said they have been planning this once they knew you were coming to the Forbidden Forest. How they knew that, I don’t know. I didn’t decide until the last moment.” The look from Hagrid made Mr. Weasley adjust his last comment to, “Okay, the last week or so. Okay, a couple days ago. Well I had to pass it by Molly and make sure she was okay about Harry and Ginny. Then I had to get time off from work…”

Hagrid quickly threw down, “So what yer’ sayin’ is, everyone knew you were coming here except Harry.” Harry gave Hagrid a thin smile. Hagrid was not giving Mr. Weasley any wiggle room. “Any road,” Hagrid said as he regrouped, “We should make the Pan Stones by noon in about three days and the presentation starts about six o’clock and should go on to about ten. Yep, that’s a long one, or one of their longest plays. They have adjusted it to make sure the Weasley family is well represented. Hagrid has to be played as he did carry you back to Hogwarts. The person playing you is a famous actor who has white hair. Going to be dyed black for this play. Just because you are goin’ to be there. And they are saying the pyrotechnics are stupendous.”

“So, Harry, how’s dinner goin?” Hagrid asked, “Getting a bit peckish.” With a smile, Harry took off back to the kitchen and got a move on with the food. He chose to do it by hand as that allowed him time to think about what was going on. He was wondering if Professor Dumbledore knew this would happen. Or was this one leap of happenstance too far.

While eating dinner Hagrid filled Harry in a bit more about what was going to happen at the Pan Stones. “These here people pretty much stick together. Have their usual paths, places, and routines that have been used for hundreds of years. Clothing, habits, mores, is all well known. Some call them drifters, not Arthur and me. We know better. They have been going a lot longer than us Ministry people and will out live the Ministry and their fuddy-duddy ways. Think of it more this way. They follow the gardener more closely than most others do. They listened to the gardener and his father more than most. Their ways may not be fancy ways. Their ways are more family ways. And they help each other. So different.” Looking at Mr. Weasley, Hagrid asked, “Arthur, Didn’t you do a summer with them?”

“Mr. Weasley turned a bright red and said, “That was a long time ago.”

“Know that, Arthur. Jes’ saying you spent a summer tramping about. Never said much about that when you came back to Hogwarts.”

“It was a memorable time… and I’d like to leave it at that.”

“Okay Arthur, okay,”

“The Doctor family?” Harry asked.

“That’s right.”

“And your boys?” Hagrid added.

Staying calm, Mr. Weasley replied with, “You can ask them. They are of age.” Then he realized there was no ‘them’ or ‘they’ any more. Only one survived the battle. Mr. Weasley flopped into his chair with a lost and despondent look on is face. He was beginning to wonder if this Harveture trip was a bit too soon after the battle. Then, for the first time, he began to wonder how Molly was doing. Maybe he should be home to help her rather than gallivant about the forbidden forest doing his Harveture interview and keeping a sharp eye out for a rogue Ford Anglia car.

Seeing the sudden change come across Mr. Weasley, Hagrid quickly asked in a gentle tone, “You okay Arthur?”

Wanting to yell out, ‘No I am not okay.’ He said the obligatory reply of, “I’m okay.” Followed by a weak smile. Hagrid was not so easily fooled but left it alone.

Turning back to Harry, Hagrid said, “Bolan Swan has assigned Bolan Beep to sit with you and be your translator. Whatever you do, don’t get her upset. She’s the apple of the old man’s eye. What ever she says, just nod in agreement.”

“Hang on; I thought you said she will translate for me. That means she speaks English?”

“Yes,”

“Then why do I have to nod in agreement? Won’t I understand her?”

“You tend to have selective hearing. Every professor says so. And her English might not be what you would call modern. So, if she says something you don’t really get, then smile, be polite, and say ‘yes’ in a clear voice. And don’t get her upset!”

“Okay, I get it. But for four hours?”

“There will be a break or two…” Hagrid started.

“Don’t be so sure Hagrid,” cut in Mr. Weasley. “This is a special presentation. Bolan Swan might want to impress Harry here and do it all without a break.”

“Four hours sitting there?” An alarmed Harry muttered.

“Oh no. No one sits through one of these. There will be plenty times people will get up to yell at the actors. Sometimes they throw things at the actors or each other. Some of the worse plays end up in a huge fistfight. Harry, these are not a sit in place type of deal. Jus’ go with the flow and you will be fine. Only remember to be nice to Bolin Beep.”

 Harry was starting to get cold feet about this plaything. Four hours was an awful long time to sit anywhere, let alone in a theatre watching a play about what happened not too long ago. Harry was not sure if he was ready for a repeat. Actually, he was trying to put it all behind him so he could concentrate on the future. He was realizing that wasn’t what other people wanted to do.

“Okay… Okay… I can do this.” Harry said aloud to himself. Someone had to convince him it was doable.

Once the meal was consumed, and Hagrid was finally satisfied, and Fang was still chewing on a rather large bone Hagrid gave him, Harry did the dishes using magic. He wanted to gather his thoughts on the upcoming day.

His view of the Battle of Hogwarts was rather limited as he was chasing Horcrux’s and trying to put and end to it all. It was a punishing time and one he did not have a desire to relive.

By the time the dishes were done and put away Hagrid had a good fire going and had made three large mugs of hot coco. “That one’s for you, Harry.” Hagrid said pointing to a mug with a small ‘H’ on it. Hagrid’s larger mug had the larger ‘H’ on it.

“Do you remember professor Staqueroff?” Mr. Weasley asked in a relaxed voice

“The Star man?” replied Hagrid as he stretched out in his reinforced chair.

“Yes, the star man of the Astronomy Tower? The one before Aurora Sinistra?”

“I used to sit there,” Hagrid said, “Listening to his thoughts on the big bang theory that muggles have. Always started off the same way.”

‘The proposed theory is,’ he would always start of with, ‘is that all matter in the entire universe was in one place at one time. Poppycock, of course, utter poppycock. How do you get everything to be at one place at one time? What law is being applied? What force is there to hold everything in one place at one time? Just imagine the astronomical amount of energy to do that. Then we must ask, where did all that energy come from? External energy forcing everything together must come from somewhere, and if it does, then everything is not at the same place at the same time. And the theorem falls apart.’

‘Or, let us look at another possibility. Say there was a large black hole vacuuming everything up and squeezing it into one place. Conceivably, a black hole could do something like that… if it was powerful enough. Then the black hole would have to collapse and be immediately ingested by the ball of matter immediately bursts apart to create the ever expanding universe muggle view today.’

“I liked Staqueroff,” Mr. Weasley added. “Odd person. Harmless, but odd. Never saw him up during the day, only at night gazing through his favorite telescope up on the astronomy tower.”

“Caught ‘im once in the forbidden forest. He fussed about too much light at the castle one Christmas. ‘Ruddy lights took the stars away,’ he said. Showed ‘im a good spot in a clearing an’ he set up and carried on. Always talking about writing a book on the stars. Never did it. Too much time lookin’ not writin’”

The conversation drifted off and once the coco was gone, Harry said, “I’ll do the mugs and then off to bed.” The other two took the hint and turned in.

Once in bed, Harry lay there staring up at nothing with his hands tucked behind his head and legs crossed. He was not tired; he was going over the battle. And while he did, there were tears in the corner of his eyes. Memories, painful memories, agonizing memories, emotional memories. Memories he knew were his until his dying day.


	4. Rain, Mud and Harveture Questions

**May 27, 1998** **,** **Wednesday &**

**May 28, 1998** **,** **Thursday**

 

_For these pilgrims, all for one,_

_Brought their own vittles to feast on the way._

_To_ _Canterbury_ _, one and all, they go_

_To pay homage to that saint of old._

 

Preamble to the missing

wizard pilgrim, Canterbury Tails

 

The rain started early in the morning. It came down at a steady pace and had no intention of stopping. That was until it Harry’s alarm went off. As if by some magical hand, the rain stopped and a glorious, but cold, morning began to unfold. From his bed, Harry used his wand to get the kitchen fire going and put on enough water for three steaming cups of coco.

For the next two days, they tramped at a reduced rate along a thoroughly muddy trail. They slid, slipped, slided and every now and again fell down while fumbling along the messy trail. Going down an embankment was at a slow pace. Even doing that, was fraught with slipping only to end up in a soggy mess at the bottom.

Harveture, like their tramping, became slower and slower as Mr. Weasley had to concentrate on the next step along the path rather than on asking Harry another Harveture question.

It was mid afternoon, while going along a relatively flat patch of ground, that Mr. Weasley finally asked, “Harry, who would handle the finances in the family?”

Harry was ready for this question as it was a hot topic amongst the boys back at Hogwarts. There were serious discussions both for and against the male controlling the purse strings. Since there were no girls in the group, they were badly maligned by the boys. Harry went round the group and everyone said their fathers ruled the family purse.

That was at odds with what Harry knew about the Weasley family. He knew Mrs. Weasley controlled the purse. He had been about the Weasley family long enough to see how that family worked. He knew Mr. Weasley had a soft spot for all things muggle and the local hawkers of junk knew it. They soon stopped coming by once they knew Mr. Weasley would turn to look at his wife for a signal that it was okay to buy or not. The look was pretty much guaranteed to be against. Having a large family on a Ministry salary did not leave too many spare galleons at Gringotts.

Rather than go with the majority, Harry sided on tact and diplomacy. He went down his practiced presentation of dual consultation with Ginny being the ultimate arbiter.

Harry plaid down his roll and built up Ginny’s skills and care when dealing with the family finances. They had discussed family finances once she knew how much money Harry had stashed away in Gringotts. Sadly, he could not answer the question he had, where did his parents get all that money? Did they inherit or make it? One of many questions he tried to remember to ask Professor Dumbledore.

As he rambled on, Harry felt his reply was striking a familiar cord with Mr. Weasley as he imperceptibly nodded every now and again. Harry’s main argument was his inexperience with wizard ways as he had been protected in Hogwarts since he was eleven and before that his monetary skills were limited to sweet money. Harry played up the skills Ginny had picked up from her mother’s knees. He knew if he could impress upon Mr. Weasley that the same skills he used to would be applied to the Potter family, he would look favorably on the union.

It was much later that Harry learnt that Neville went along with the majority, as he was tired of having to go to his tight fisted grandmother for every knut. That was when Harry found out that Neville was familiar with muggle currency as he was constantly returning bottles to make a few pennies on the side.

The next question Mr. Weasley asked that morning was on naming the children. Harry had been well prepped on this one. Ginny had firmly impressed upon Harry that the children would have their own names and not be named after some relative or other. And there would be no naming after a place or object. Ginny explained the problems her parents went through as they broke with family tradition of naming the boys after their father, grandfather, and great grandfather in that order. She explained that her father was almost banished from family gatherings because he wanted his children to have their own name. It was not until Ginny came along that the other family members wilted, as there were so few girls in the Weasley clan. Then came the first war against Voldemort and the Weasley numbers were decimated.

After the evening meal, Hagrid was in a sanguine spirit. He had some shag tobacco in his pipe from which he puffed out corpulent volumes of thick smoke. Rather than cause a fuss, Mr. Weasley used his wand to create a breeze blowing the smoke away from where he was sitting. He was not a pipe person nor did he approve of its usage.

That’s when Hagrid started with, “Still nothing out there, Arthur. Don’t rightly know if I should be here. I mean, it’s your Harveture. The sightings were vague and days old.”

Thinking about his reply, Mr. Weasley countered with, “Having you here has been invaluable. The Ysalamir are a case in point. Without you here I’m not sure if we would ever get out of this place alive. I mean to say, what if we forgot everything? You know how those critters can go. If enough gang up on you, you can forget everything. Not a nice thought.

“And there are your leadership skills, which you showed most admirably by going down the stairs to sort out whatever there was to sort out. Commendable and admirable. I hope that Harry here is watching and taking note of your decisive actions.”

“Bit thick Arthur.”

“Not at all. You are a most valued member of this team. Might not be involved in the Harveture, but you have made this possible and I’m sure will keep us safe as we chat away.”

Feeling much better about being there, Hagrid replied with, “Thank yr’ Arthur. Most nice of yr’ to say so.” Then he added, “Jes’ glad I can help.”

Then Hagrid started down memory lane with, “Reminds me of yr’ father Harry. You know he is ten years younger than Arthur is. While Arthur was off at the ministry, James was a spotty boy coming in to Hogwarts. Remember him in 1971, first time on the train. He was not the sure boy he became. Actually, you could hear his knees knocking. It was a full year and he had to sit in the luggage carriage. That’s where he found Remus, Peter, and Sirius. Bunch of worried looking eleven year olds going to school and missing their parents already. Not like you Harry. You were ready, ready to get away from those rotten Dursley lot and join where you belong: with us wizards.

“That’s where your father crossed swards with Professor Snape for the first time. Sorta set the rest of their time in school. Pity that. Being like chalk and cheese didn’t ‘elp one bit.

“On day two, yr father was all bolshie like… and it never stopped until he graduated. Once he married Lily, yr’ mother, he did settle a little. Had to, you came along, as did the first wizarding war. Your father was brave. Took the hardest challenges. Never shirked, did his best. When Lilly became pregnant, he slowed up. Had to. Orders from Professor Dumbledore. He always said, ‘fight for today and build for tomorrow.’ Amazin’ man that Dumbledore. In the end yr’ father jes’ trusted the wrong person.” That’s when Hagrid stopped to work on his pipe. It had gone out.

Then Hagrid was back with, “I was with Professor Dumbledore when it happened. He knew something happened. Felt it he did. Felt a shift in his powers. Like the Order was connected to each other. That way we fought as a unit with someone at yr’ back all the time. Losing two like that was bad an’ sad. Professor Dumbledore turned and sent me to find out what happened. Sorry Harry. I was too late. We were all too late. Same for your grandparents, James’s parents. They said Dragon Pox killed them. Wrong. That was for everyone outside the Order. It were an ambush. They were tricked into coming to a family gathering. Death Eaters were waiting. Didn’t stand a chance. They were old and slow. Professor Dumbledore tried time after time to get them to go into hiding. They refused and insisted it was their right to make a better tomorrow for their only grandson. They’re buried in the same church. Somewhere close.”

Hagrid went back to his pipe as his eyes were starting to get moist. The stories ended with no one willing to carry on. The three of them sat there, each reminiscing lost friends and relatives.

 

Thursday morning started out promising to be a fine day, but did not fulfill its offerings. Just after the tent was packed and they were ready to set off, a light mist rolled over the pathway followed by light rain.

Hagrid used a brolly spell to provide transportive covering for all three. However, that did not help with the mud. Hagrid was not amused by the adverse weather, and it showed in the words he would mutter under his breath. At times, his mutterings became too rich and Mr. Weasley had to remind Hagrid that Harry was with them.

The main Thursday question was, raising children. Again, the vast expanse of experience amongst the boys was limited as they were away from home at Hogwarts. Amongst those that had younger siblings, there was a general admittance that they were never trusted to help with the youngsters because of their lack of experience. However, this small group of boys had plenty to say on raising younger ones. Their main words of experience were to know where their mother was at all times. That way they knew where to run to for help.

That was when Harry drew from his own experience at the Dursley’s. Despite being a rotten lot the Dursley’s did try to provide a balance between the secular and the higher values offered by the church. This duality seemed to match Ginny’s upbringing.

The roll of school was to prepare young moldy minds for the cut and thrust of every day like. The church provided a place to learn about the higher values encompassed in the classis saying of love the Lord and love your neighbour.

The Dursley’s were not church going people, but they were there every Easter, Christmas, marriage, funeral and christening. Mr. Dursley said it was important to be seen as such events to keep in touch. Dudders loved marriages, as there were cakes to enjoy.

What the Dursley’s said and did was always a puzzle. Ever since Harry could remember, they were always asking him if he did this or that. If he was honest, he usually ended up with a clout on the ear. It didn’t matter if he did it or not, the clout was swift and accurate. Lying didn’t help: the clout was always there.

It was if Mr. Dursley took perverse pleasure of clouting Harry regardless of the truthfulness of his statement. All the while Dudders was coddled by his doting mother.

In the end, Harry felt saying the truth was very important. He didn’t want to become a skinny version of the lying Dudders trying to curry favor all the time.

When Harry entered Hogwarts, he carried on his tradition of being honest: to his detriment. This is when saying the truth about what he saw came up against the intractable world of old, entrenched, unyielding members of the establishment. Professor Dumbledore was the exception.

That was why the DA’s were so important to Harry. They believed him. It was that belief that lifted such a huge weight from his solitary shoulders. Now others could believe and pick up the load. Harry was so proud that Neville, Ginny and Luna were in the forefront of the rebellion. Leading, pushing, taking risks and supporting the others even when hope was thin.

All though being true, honest and upright, Harry could look the other DA’s in the eye and knew they were the best of the best. The type of person who he wanted to be with.

 Ginny, likewise, was raised by God-fearing people who espoused honesty, truthfulness and a giving way. Being the youngest, she had all her brothers keeping an eye on her. With so many eyes on her, she could never get away with anything. That is until she arrived at Hogwarts.

When the brothers saw their little sister with Harry, there was a general question of how did that happen? No one saw it coming: even Ron missed the signs. Hermione saw the same signs and respected their choice.

Harry took a deep breath and dove into his of family dynamics presentation. He started with covering how different men and women are and that through that difference a marriage can make something fare better and complete. Into that union children have the best chance of being successfully raised. Then Harry added that nothing is guaranteed but it is better to stack the odds in favor of success than go in expecting failure and dissolution.

The presentation was tailor-made for Mr. Weasley as it matched his thoughts: as Ginny knew it would. Many times at the kitchen table, she had seen and heard the love between her parents was much more important than all the riches in Gringotts. How a simple trip to family members were more fun than all the wizarding wanderings could offer. She had seen sacrifice first hand. She had listened to closed husband / wife conversations on the financial wows that existed but never discussed openly. In addition, she saw how Fred and George secretly helped the family, in many small and inconspicuous ways, once Weasley’s' Wizard Wheezes got going.

Harry had been carefully schooled by Ginny and it showed. Mr. Weasley was impressed by the grasp Harry had on the topic of the family. Molly had concerns about this one area. She knew Harry had not been raised by a good family and wondered if that experience would be inflicted on his family. When Mr. Weasley reported back, Molly was relieved by his words.

During this second day of wet weather, the three of them were constantly using Parasol to clean off the constant mudding up. It was during one such stop that Hagrid whipped about and put his hand up. Harry and Mr. Weasley instantly stopped what they were doing.

“Hear that?” Hagrid whispered.

Harry looked at Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley looked back at Harry. Both shook their heads.

Hagrid kept still for a few more minutes. “Gone. It’s gone now. Somethin’ not right to be in the forest. Mechanical like.”

“What? A clunk?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Somethin’ like that. Foreign noise. Somethin’ that don’t belong in a forest.”

“The Anglia?”

“Could be. Not sure what I heard. Jes’ somethin’ out of place.”

The look of Mr. Weasley’s face was something between excited and pensive. Either way, his head was moving a lot more than usual. He was trying to hear the new sound. This sudden distraction caused Mr. Weasley to completely forget Harveture. Harry smiled to himself, as he knew Mr. Weasley would soon forget the noise after a good meal.

He was right.

Once the evening meal was over and the three of them gathered around the fire, Mr. Weasley reminisced with, “You know Molly and I were invited to your father’s wedding.  1981 that was. Summer 1981, right after Lilly and James graduated from Hogwarts.”

The look on Harry’s face asked the question, ‘why you?’

“I helped him out of a couple scrapes with the Ministry. Seems he had a penchant for picking up muggle stuff. Usually the wrong type of muggle stuff. One was an Ariel Square Four motor bike. The tricky one was an Autogyro. He thought he could do better in one of those contraptions than on a broom while playing Quidditch. Pure showing off as it never been done before. Had to cut it pretty close, but we managed it in the end. I mean, no body died, did they.”

Slowly Harry caught up with, “You were there? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Just one of those things. Thought someone else had already told you all about it. I mean, you were at school and I was at the Ministry. As you know, life has been pretty hectic the past few years.”

“It were big, Nice and big with loads to eat.” Added Hagrid.

“You were there too?” Queried Harry.

Hagrid gave Harry a sideways look, and then carried on with, “Pretty much everyone in the Order were there. Plus family, of course. Big ‘do’ for all as it was thought a good marriage.”

Mr. Weasley looked skyward before adding, “Never thought of it as a big celebration, what with the troubles Voldemort was causing. I thought it was appropriate for the occasion. It was good and we had loads of laughs. Right Hagrid?”

“It were a good service, it were,” Hagrid mused as he puffed along. “Ceremony went well with Sirius as best man. Remus tied the rings together and then to Sirius’ wrist so he wouldn’t lose them. Worked like a charm.”

“And the reception,” Mr. Weasley continued with, “it was a good one. I really liked the talks. It was a real roasting. I mean, the stuff that came up. Never knew the half of what that lot got up to. Lilly’s lot were stunned while James’ lot were rolling in the isles. Didn’t know if I should laugh at the stories or cry at the looks on people’s faces.”

The reminiscing went on for several hours as Harry peppered the other two with question after question. He wanted to know it all and know it all right now.

It was late and Harry was putting the fire out before washing up the mugs when Mr. Weasley asked. “And what will be your profession now you have graduated?”

Of all the Harveture questions, this one was the one he had been dreading.

Of course, this topic was discussed at length amongst the boys. The general consensus was for Harry to become a seeker under Krum. The prevailing opinion was fame and glory, and playing for England was the way to go. The discussion ebbed and flowed, but never deviated from becoming a professional Quidditch player.

He knew Ginny wanted him to be a professor at Hogwarts because they would be close together. Being a Quidditch widow did not appeal to her. Harry’s distant third with was to be an Auror. The problem was no N.E.W.T.s as he did not attend his final year at Hogwarts. Actually, this was something Harry, Neville, and Ron had talked about. They realized chasing Voldemort had a price and that price was forgoing the chance to be an Auror.

Ginny knew Harry’s heart was being tugged between Quidditch and teaching with Quidditch winning by a long distance. Since teaching was her choice, she knew better to let Harry choose, as he will be the one to live with that decision. So, once talked through, she left him alone hoping he would make the best choice for the family.

Standing in front mf Mr. Weasley, Harry realized this was crunch time: Harry had to choose and go with it.

“To be a professor at Hogwarts.”

That answer surprised Mr. Weasley, as he was sure Harry would go with Quidditch. He quickly asked, “What about Quidditch and Krum?”

Harry looked down at the carpet covering the floor. It had a nice pattern. Having a nice pattern did not help formulate a reply. After a longish pause, Harry replied with, “Quidditch is good. It’s fun. It would bring in the money. On the other hand, I’d be gone from the family a lot. That would not be good for Ginny and me.

“To make this marriage work, I want to be there, in the family. I think we could be nice and comfortable at Hogwarts. Between the money I have and a teacher’s salary, I think we could do okay.”

“You don’t want to be some famous seeker… and play for England?”

“Been there and done that. No one cared if I was chasing Voldemort or not. All I got was bad press and the Ministry down my neck. I’m done being out there. Even now, all that fame of killing Tom Riddle didn’t get me anywhere. People would rather be at Weasley’s' Wizard Wheezes with their kids buying the latest gag. That’s reality, not the fame of doing Tom in.

“Ill be here for at least one year. Time enough to get married, and see Ginny through her final year. One of us has to get their N.E.W.T.s.”

Mr. Weasley was not expecting Harry to go down the professorship path. He was sure Harry would go into Quidditch. Despite Harry’s explanation, he was waiting for Harry to say, ‘Just kidding’. It did not happen. Finally, Mr. Weasley asked, “Are you sure?”

Lacking real enthusiasm, Harry replied with, “About as sure as I can be. Good for me, Ginny and the future.”

Deep down in his heart, once a seeker always a seeker. Nothing can replace the shear thrill of outpacing, out turning, out faking the other team’s seeker and grasping the golden snitch to thunderous applause because you just won the game. Nothing…

On the other hand, the good book says, ‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.’ Harry knew it was time to move on. He had something far better than Quidditch and that was his Ginny. They would last far longer than any Quidditch game… so long as he could figure out how she could beat him so easily.

Mr. Weasley had just seen his opportunity to have some bragging rights at the Ministry vanish. Harry as a famous seeker for England was one thing. Having Harry as a regular teacher at Hogwarts did not have the same cachet.

With that balloon popped, Mr. Weasley had no more questions. He knew being a teacher at Hogwarts would be honorable and Harry would serve with distinction. However, Harry as a seeker… and playing for England at the world cup… 


	5. A Noise in the Forest

**May 29, 1998** **,** **Friday**

 

_Having this day my wand, my hand, my cloke_

_Guided so well I overcome Voldemort_

_Both by the sould judgement and friends_

_And people of the forest_

_Wand skills, in wandmanship advance_

_Everyone knew my strength, a daintier skill was not had_

_His praise to sleigh from which good come,_

_Some lucky whits impunet but to chance;_

_Others, sat on both sides I do take_

_The blood from them who sat as such,_

_Think parents me a man-at-arms did make._

_How far they shot awry! The true cause is,_

_Stella looked on, and from her right arm_

_Sent forth my strength, my skills which made so fair my race._

 

Sonnet 41 (Alt. Version) Sir Philip Sidney

 

It was Friday morning, that, after clearing away everything they started in the usual pattern. Hagrid out front with the slower two bringing up the rear. The rain had cleared out and a cool morning welcomed the travelers.

From off to their right came the sounds of crashing and bashing followed by several magical spells aimed at something fast moving through the forest. Hagrid quickly squatted down beside a large tree. The problem was, as he went down he lost his footing and ignominiously fell into a fast flowing stream. Harry tried to stay upright by hanging on to a stout branch while Mr. Weasley went kerplop into a deep puddle. By the time all three had gathered themselves together and pulled out their wands the noise had gone.

Taking the lead, Hagrid said, “You two best stay here. I’ll just go and have a look.” Then he added. “An’ try staying on yer’ feet. Might need to get out fast.” With that, Hagrid carefully and methodically headed off in the direction of the noise while Harry and Mr. Weasley stayed still as possible so they didn’t end back in muddy water.

Hagrid was gone a long time. Long enough for Harry to start seeing monsters everywhere he looked.

When Hagrid did return he was accompanied by one of the Bolan family. “Bolan Beat, here, and me have been out looking. Seems, Arthur, your ruddy Ford Anglia has been running about in the mud. See tyre tracks all over the place. Making itself a big nuisance. Seems it has been bothering several of the families headin’ to the Pan Stones. They would like to know what you are going to do.”

Mr. Weasley was caught off guard. He had not given capturing the Ford Anglia one ounce of thought.

Seeing his plight, Harry stepped in with a stalling tactic. “What did you see out there?” he asked.

“Seems the ruddy car likes doing donuts in the mud. And that messes up the tracks the other people were taking.”

“Can’t they follow our track? Might be muddy, bet there are no tyre tracks over this side.”

“No,” replied Hagrid. “As we talked about, others like to keep to themselves. They like to be left alone and not bothered by the likes of us.”

“Okay, just a thought. Trying to help.” Then Harry asked, “Can they go in front of us up the rail? That way we follow them. No problem in us following them… is there?”

“No Harry,” Hagrid said, “They like to be by themselves.”

“Where is the car?” Mr. Weasley asked, “Did someone catch it?”

“No such luck,” Hagrid said, “Seems it blasted right in then blasted right out. Before anyone had a chance to do anything. All over in a flash.”

Bolan Beat then started to talk. Which meant Harry was left out of the conversation. This funny form of English was beginning to bother Harry. He was wondering why couldn’t everyone speak regular English: it would make life so much easier.

When the conversations ended, good byes said, and Bolan Beat had gone, Mr. Weasley said in a hushed voice, “Seems they saw someone n the car.”

“Yep, that’s what I heard too.” Hagrid added.

“What? Someone actually in the car?” A surprised Harry said.

“Don’t seem possible do it.” Hagrid said, “But several saw someone inside.”

“Was the person actually steering the car or not?” Was Harry’s only question he vocalized. His other questions he kept to himself.

“Got a puzzler here Arthur. No mistake on that. A right puzzler.” Then he thumped Arthur in the arm and added, “Sure glad that’s your problem an’ not mine. So, what are you going to so?”

Mr. Weasley looked from Hagrid to Harry and saw no help from either. Mr. Weasley knew there is no book or spell you can turn to for help in rogue car matters. Solutions have to be made up on the fly. And right now, he had no clue, ideas or notions on how to capture the feral Anglia.

Seeing that Mr. Weasley was running on empty, Hagrid said, “Time to get a move on. Ruddy daylight is being wasted...” With that, he started down the trail looking for a dry spot to put his rather large feet on to. That way he could be better prepared for the next visit from the rogue car. All he wanted was a split second and a clear view of the Anglia’s front grill. Hagrid thought one arrow slap dab in the center of the grill should do the trick.


	6. The Pan Stones

**May 30, 1998** **, Saturday**

_Ah Harry_

_So loyal, so when,_

_Shall we, with friends,_

_Meet at the table, Made at Hogwarts,_

_The Hogshead or The Burrow?_

_Where we as friends_

_So nobly talked over_

_Brave deeds of times of yore?_

 

Attar. Robert Herrick.

The new day very nicely as some of the younger Bolan’s brought breakfast for Harry: not the others.

“Ruddy good day for you,” Hagrid muttered at Harry. “Treating you as special… and no breakfast for us.” Looking at a dejected Mr. Weasley, Hagrid asked, “You up for cookin?”

“No, thought you are since you live on your own.”

“Yeh, but that is at home, not here.”

“What’s the difference?”

With that Hagrid got to banging pots and pans while looking through the cupboards. The day was not starting off good for Hagrid. After a while of poking about, Hagrid rustled up something that resembled scrambled eggs, Haggis and wild onions. Mr. Weasley found the taste a bit powerful, not so Hagrid. Once consumed and seconds gone through, Hagrid was starting to feel a whole lot better.

“Well then,” Hagrid said, “Think we better break camp and get a move on. Places to go, people to see and a play to watch. Right Harry?”

Harry smiled back with a, “Right Hagrid.” He rather enjoyed his breakfast. Harry had absolutely no idea what it was, just that it tasted really good. That was a recipe he needed to ask for, as he was sure Ginny would like it.

Hagrid was a stickler for packing. It had to be done properly so that they could unpack quickly and get out of any bad weather in a hurry. That is why Hagrid kept a close eye on Harry as Harry used his magic to pack everything away. Once the campground was checked for cleanliness, they were off down the Great East Road. Again Hagrid stretched out in front while Harry and Mr. Weasley followed. The pace Hagrid set was rather aggressive for the two slow pokes and Hagrid had to keep stopping and waiting for them to catch up.

“Hurry up you two. Want to get there before the Bolan lot.”

“How do you know where they are?” Asked Harry as he peered into the green forest.

“It’s not what you see; it’s what you don’t see. See?”

Harry looked again at the forest and said, “No.” in a sure way.

“That’s 'cause yer aren’t looking at the right thing.” Hagrid muttered. “See, it’s like this. How do you know the sun is out?”

“It’s day time.”

“With yer eyes closed Harry.”

“It’s worm.”

“That’s right, 'cause it’s worm. Rain is wet and cold. Wind blows on yer face. Air we breathe. By understanding how the classical elements work we can see them in motion.”

“That’s not taught at Hogwarts these days; is it?” Harry said in a matter of fact voice.

“Even before my time,” Hagrid added.

“Too old fashioned and denounced by the Ministry as fake,” Mr. Weasley added. “Modern stuff like History of Magic and Muggle Studies came in. Some say a change too far. Then again, some of the old professors wanted to pass on some of their learning to the up and coming generations… didn’t they Hagrid?”

“Don’t know what yer mean; I don’t”

“Hagrid here was very well favored by certain professors. Like Dumbledore, Burchgaster, Richentouff, and that type. People from Eastern Europe who still dabbled in the elemental ways: if you know what I mean.”

“Sure not following you.” Muttered Hagrid.

“Had their own special meetings down in the dungeons as Hagrid was one of the few people who knew his way about the place.”

“Didn’t Tom know about it?” Harry quickly asked.

“Course he knew, jus’ not interested… not Tom,” Hagrid replied, “He was after dark magic. The darker the better. Elemental magic was too trivial to his thinkin’. Thought it silly magic as he had darker powers that he thought could over power the four elements. So, he weren’t interested once he knew what it was about.”

Harry thought of the time in the Room of Requirements when the cursed fire destroyed everything. That fire could easily destroy regular fire. So, which version of fire is contained in the four elements?

“So, what happened?” Asked Harry.

“No one was interested in it. Professors moved on… students graduated… no one left to carry on the interest.” Then Hagrid added. “And that was that.”

“Just like that?”

“Yes, just like that.” Said Hagrid. “But maybe one day it will come back. Say we got a professor more interested in the elements rather than, say divination. Not much of a future in divination now Professor Dumbledore isn’t here to support it. You know, no one thought much of it until Professor Dumbledore  brought Sybill Trelawney to Hogwarts.”

“You never liked divination; have you Hagrid?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“Never have an’ never will. Too hokey-pokey for me. The gardener took to it though. ‘E said there were more things in life than in the four elements. “E called them a good starting point. Then build on them and keep going. Never really knew what he meant by that. Sounded good though.”

“So how does the four elements work?” Harry asked as he was getting a bit curious as he remembered his time down in the Chamber of Secrets… the time it got really windy. Was that elemental usage?

“They don’t work Harry,” Hagrid said with a smile. “Jes like any thing magical, you have to start at the bottom and work up. Walk before you can run.” Looking about Hagrid, said, “People on the move again. Time to get going.” Then he added, “Not long now.”

They trudged on through the forest. Imperceptibly the road got a little flatter, with less fallen trees and thinner bushes. It was like this part of the road was more traveled than other parts. Slowly the trees thinned out and they entered the Great Pan Plane. In a matter of a few yards the landscape changed from lush forest to verdant grassland and finally to thin soil on top of solid rock. Harry did a double take, as the change seemed so out of place because it happened so quickly after so much time in the thick forest.

“Come on then,” Hagrid said. “Sudden, weren’t it. Happens to us all the first time. You never get used to it. Jes’ that you think the forest is forever and then, sudden like, here you are. Now pick up the pace and don’t gawk at the others.”

Harry suddenly looked all over the place to see what Hagrid was meaning. To the left and the right he saw groups emerging from the forest.

“Forest folk. Families all heading to the play today. Jes’ as I said… this is going to be big. Biggest one in a long time. Maybe the biggest one for a long time.”

Harry marveled at the movement of so many to see this rendition on the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Keep up Harry. No dawdling now. People watchin’.”

Harry picked up the pace to catch up with Hagrid. That was when Hagrid gave Harry a slight push so he was out front of Hagrid and Mr. Weasley. Hagrid knew appearances were important, especially to forest folk. From that point on Harry kept up a good pace with Hagrid whispering directions. Basically, it was forward.

As he walked, Harry started to get a pain at the base of his head. It was annoying at first. The more he walked the more it bothered him. He tried holding his nose and blowing. He tried moving his head from side to side. He tried rubbing his neck. Nothing worked.

“Yer noticed it, Harry? The pan pipes gettin’ to yer?”

The minute Hagrid mentioned the noise was the time Harry understood there was something in the air. A vibration. A note. A droning noise so low, so faint, so imperceptible that he felt rather than heard it. That was until Hagrid mentioned it.

“Never been here before.” Mr. Weasley said. “Not the best of feelings. Why are they doing it?”

“Jes’ the way things are. Should change tonight.”

“Hope so.” Mr. Weasley said as he rubbed his neck. “I don’t think I could sit through this when sitting next to the pans.”

“Could be callin’ something or someone? The lower the note the further it travels. Sorta letting everyone know what’s happenin’.”

“Be there or be square,” muttered Mr. Weasley. He was not exactly enjoying this change to his plans. He was expecting to be into the real Harveture questions of family, children and work. He was expecting to be probing Harry to make sure he was comfortable handling the pressure of being famous. It was the famous thing that bothered Mr. Weasley the most. Being famous has a habit of going down through the family affecting everyone it touched. And that meant his grandchildren. Living under a microscope is not a nice place to be.

Mr. Weasley also realized the importance forest dwellers placed on their epic plays. Long as they were, they were part of their social fabric. Times for people to gather and share a common experience, a common presentation that could be talked about for years to come. This sharing was important to them as food is to others.

The change from the forest and the protective covering it provided to the ever-expanding emptiness was surprisingly quick and unnerving. Hagrid was first to voice what everyone was thinking, “No ruddy cover here. Too open.”

“I’m looking for a death eater to come floating by.” Added Harry.

“That’s a bad joke Harry,” Mr. Weasley quickly said.

“Black humor,” commented Hagrid as he looked at the families emerging from the forest. They were not going in their traditional single file. They were sort of straggling all over the place. Kids scampering about. Teenagers lolling together and fathers chatting with everyone. Definitely a relaxed lot.

Hagrid looked up and noted some of the Therrispids bringing in the more affluent forest dwellers. Anyone who had a Therrispid had money as they were a handful to work with. Not like dragons. Hagrid loved dragons and working with them. Much more fun than Therrispids.

Mr. Weasley also noted the people flying in by nodding in their direction and saying, “Looks like everyone is going to be here. This is going to be a big one.”

“You ready for this one, Harry?” Hagrid asked.

“Yeh, I’m ready,” Harry said with a broad smile on his face. “I know how it ends. I win.”

Hagrid had to smile at that reply, “You sure did. Let’s get a move on. I want to see the person playing me. I’m thinkin’ to give ‘im some pointers. Make sure he don’t drop you. That wouldn’t be good.”

Harry whacked Hagrid on the arm and added, “He won’t and you didn’t.”

And on they marched. As they did the distance between the groups diminished as there was only one place everyone was going. And as they marched on the noise changed from a sub-frequency drone to actual melodic sounds. “About ruddy time,” Hagrid said.

“Expecting it?” Asked Harry.

“Corse. How else were they goin’ to get it right for later on?”

“Practice and more practice.” Chipped in Mr. Weasley. He was feeling his age at the pace Hagrid set. Mr. Weasley would not complain, he knew a good pace had to be set to be there on time. Just that he wished some Terrispid would come down and give him a ride. Being out in the open was a lot hotter than in the shaded forest.

They pressed on across the empty plane until they came to the lip of a slight dip in the ground. That was when Hagrid called a halt to they could see the natural auditorium. In the middle of the dip were the pan stones and the raised stage with a further raised platform above that.

“Wow,” Mr. Weasley said as he scanned the size and simplicity of it all. “This is big.”

“Quidditch pitch is bigger.” Harry added.

“Not really. You go up. This goes out,” Mr. Weasley countered. “ Way wider than a pitch. Look at those people down there,” Mr. Weasley said as he pointed to two small people. “It’s like an optical illusion. Looks small until you realize how tall those men are. Then your perspective kicks in and suddenly things are bigger. This is big.”

“Sure is,” sighed Hagrid. “Been an awful long time since been here last. Took a girl on a date. Her parents went bananas when they found out where we’d been. Never dated her again: parents weren’t for it.”

“Hang on a moment,” Harry said, “I thought you said you have never been here before?”

“Ahhh, a slight slip of the tongue, that were,” An embarrassed Hagrid said.

“So you have been here before?” Harry pressed Hagrid with.

“Ahh, only the once. The girl wanted to come, so I tagged along.”

Mr. Weasley joined in with, “A girl was it,” Anyone I know?”

“No, no, no one you two know…”

“Are you sure Hagrid, I knew a lot of girls during my time at Hogwarts.” Mr. Weasley added.

“Look you two, it was a long time ago and nothing’ happened. See. So let’s drop it.”

The three of them were suddenly distracted when from the top platform shot up three Gobsmack rockets. In the daylight they really weren’t that impressive. “Pyrotechnics from the top to embellish certain aspects of the story.” Mr. Weasley added as they watched the rockets sailed higher and higher. Getting wind direction and altitude right so they can get it all synchronized.”

“I’m impressed,” Harry said,

“You should be,” replied Mr. Weasley. “This is all for you. This performance will be talked about for years to come. Parents will tell and impress it upon their youngsters who will do the same and so on in to the distant future. That’s how it is with these people. The actual story is only half the story. The other half if the presentation. That is why it is here. These surroundings will embellish the story… the surroundings and the pan music. This will be a one off. And with you here… well that is the icing on the cake. A performance and special person. Never to be repeated.” That was when Mr. Weasley took a sideways glance at Harry and found him grinning away. “You not worried?”

“Worried about what? All I have to do is sit there and enjoy what I know will happen. I’m good at that.”

As the three stood there taking it all in, Bolan Swan approached. He was accompanied by four others all neatly wrapped in a loose fitting robes girdled with a wide width of cloth of multi colors and intricate patterns. This time, rather than having a full headscarf they had a light covering, more to keep the dust off than hide their faces.

Bolan Swan greeted Hagrid as a long lost friend with hugs, backslapping, shaking of hands and lots of loud laughter. Then he moved on to Mr. Weasley. This greeting was every bit the equal to Hagrid’s. As Bolan Swan moved on up stepped Bolan Unicorn and greeted Hagrid like a long lost relative who had lots to catch up on.

Then Bolan Swan moved down the line to Harry. In a melodic English language he said, “Mister Harry, so welcome you are. So proud of you we have. Saved us from a disaster so bad then it became so good so we celebrate here you us are with.” And that was when he threw himself about Harry to hug him tight. Harry was struggling to breathe while in such an enveloping embrace. Suddenly Bolan Swan let go and waved the fourth member of the group over. “Beep, read you the what wrote you here Mister Harry.” Turning to Harry he added, “Good it is to!”

Bolan Beep stepped forward, positioned herself in front of Harry and slipped out a scroll from her sleeve. Once unrolled she began to read…  


“Don’t walk away, I have something to say,

You didn’t turn around or run away.

When the shadow fell, you had a way

To find the truth, come what may.

 

“All through that black night,

You had plenty to say,

Voldemort was alive

And you did stay, to fight for the right

To live another day.

 

“Don’t walk away, you are my friend,

I’ll follow you about

Because you didn’t turn around

And run away… You stayed.

 

“All of my life, I shall try to be

A friend to you, even though you don’t know me.

I won’t turn around, I won’t run away,

I shall stand for the right

I gotta stay… Just like Harry Potter.

 

Bolan Swan wailed so loudly that Harry just about jumped out of his skin. “That beautiful was it. So it was beautiful.” To add emphasis he thumped his chest and added. “Lands just so here.” Then turning to Harry, he asked, “You to say so?”

Harry vigorously nodded his head as he looked at Bolan Beep. She was beautiful.

Bashfully Beep said, “I wrote it after the battle. After I knew you were alive. It could be better.”

“No, no, no,” Harry quickly said as he put his hand on hers as she was still holding the outstretched scroll. “That was perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Then realizing where his hand was… and the fact that both Hagrid and Mr. Weasley were burning holes in the back of his hand, he quickly moved it.

Totally disregarding the moment Bolan Boogie yelled at Hagrid and gave him the same greeting as before. The only difference this time being Hagrid kept his eyes fixated on Harry.

Bolan Beep joined her beaming father, Bolan Swan to allow Bolan Unicorn to move from Mr. Weasley to Harry. In heavily accented English Bolan Unicorn said, “Pray we did, all for you. You did to win. Pray and more prayer did us all.” Harry smiled back. Bolan Unicorn continued with, “Bolan Beep prayed the most. The most for you. To crush Voldemort by the head and dig him deep into the ground.” With a smile he moved on.

Last to greet Hagrid was Bolan Desdemona. A taller and mature version of Bolan Beep. Bolan Desdemona held out her hand, which Hagrid shook before kissing in the French tradition. Then he added in an elegant voice, “Your beauty is radiant which means the gods favor you. And, I for one must agree.”

Harry had never heard Hagrid ever offer such flattery. He guessed, correctly, there was some history between the two of them. Hagrid was turning into a dark horse since the beginning of this trip.

Once the introductions were over Bolan Swan put his arm around Harry’s shoulders and gently lead him away from the others. When out of earshot Bolan Swan asked, “All time this I never thought of. The great Mr. Potter to us be with. Honor most great. But you and me only, did it how? How killed you Voldemort?”

Once Harry had rearranged the words into real English he asked, “What have you heard?”

“Stories most strange. The sky with lights. Creatures most magical. Known not spells. All fantastical most.”

Harry was tempted to add the strange story of flying squid’s and the earth swallowing up death eaters by the bucket load. From his previous experiences, he knew the prosaic truth would soon be pushed aside in favor of the bazaar, the stupid and the impossible. Happened before and was already happening again. Harry kept his tone nice and flat when he asked, “Did you read the Daily Prophet’s account?”

“Pash, tish, nothing but nothing and full of nothing.”

Harry pressed again with, “Did you read it?”

“Pah, empty hills of beans.”

“Can I take that as a no?”

Finally Bolan Swan came clean with, “Did Beep.” And a flurry of hand gestures. “English written in so good no more.” Emphasis was added by the stamping of feet on the ground as if stomping on cockroaches.

“So you didn’t like what was written?”

“Frump and toump. Good no it was. Facts good not. Line of the story false was it all. Written most bad.”

“I have it on good account that the story was pretty good.” If anyone should know how accurate the story was, it should be Harry as he wrote it. Part of the agreement hammered out between himself and the paper editors. They get Harry Potter scoops while he gets to write the scoops.

“Beep no good she said. Others so say.”

“I think it’s pretty good.”

“You think?”

“I do. I would say it’s pretty accurate. And I was there.”

Bolan Swan yelled over his shoulder and Bolan Beep came scurrying over to where Harry and Bolan Swan were standing. Bolan Swan started to quiz his daughter closely. Even though Harry could not understand the verbiage, he could feel the tenor of the verbal sparring. Father and daughter were getting quite heated standing only inches apart. The words were thick and fast without any break in the thrusting and parrying. Back and forth they went and then suddenly it stopped with Bolan Beep stomping on the ground hard, just the once, and folding her arms across her chest. Her look said it all. She had lost.

“Story, it was good,” Bolan Beep started with, “Like it, I did not. Rework did I do. It was boring to our ears. More excitement was needed so it did add in.”

“So you reworked it?” Harry asked in a casual voice as he gave Beep a sideways glance. She was stunningly beautiful.

“A little,” she replied as she pressed two fingers together to illustrate how little little really is.

“Okay, just a little.” Then he asked, “Did you add in anything? Like flying creatures?”

Studying the sky Beep casually said, “Maybe.”

Harry smiled as he gave a Beep a little longer glance. She was indeed most beautiful. Then turning to Bolan Swan he said, “If you found what you’re looking for, it really doesn’t matter at all… One day, in the distant future I’ll be a story in a book. But that’s okay. We’re all stories in the end. So let’s make it a good one, eh!”

“Happen, never do can. Famous in the end. As light goes Potter goes… straight go.” Harry smiled; he didn’t have a clue what Bolan Swan was saying even though it sounded great.

Changing the topic, Harry asked Beep, “And where will we be sitting during the play?”

“Not play, we like to call it an epic.”

“Okay, where will we be sitting during this epic?”

Pointing to the best seats in the house, “There we sit. See the best and loudest.” Harry looked in the direction Beep was pointing and it was the best location. That was when Harry noticed the low table covered with a white cloth. Outlined were several plates. It was then he realized there was an empty feeling in his stomach. He was hungry and there was food.

Bolan Swan caught Harry eyeing the food. “Starving are you two?”

Beep looked at Harry and Harry fell for her sublime beauty. He nodded while he let out a long sigh.

“Join others will we?” Bolan Swan said and took off at a good pace. It was getting into the afternoon when the group sat down at the table. No one moved until Bolan Swan offered a lengthy blessing on the food. Once the ‘Amen’ drifted away, the clashing of cutlery commenced. There were four main and three minor courses and a large variety of juices and light refreshments.

The chatter about the table was friendly and very convivial. Harry sat between Bolan Swan and Bolan Beep. Between Bolan Beep and Bolan Desdemona was Mr. Weasley and between Bolan Desdemona and Bolan Debora was Hagrid. Mr. Weasley was not in fine spirits while Hagrid was thoroughly enjoying himself between two very fine Bolan women.

The various conversations ranged wide and far. Harry was curious about the Bolan family and where they traveled. Did they have a set pattern or was it random? Did they follow animals or relied on fruit and vegetables naturally provided? And a myriad of other questions Harry put to Bolan Beep. In turn, Bolan Beep replied to everything in a measured way. Enough to satisfy Harry without giving away the family jewels. Harry thought she would make a fine teacher as teachers do the same thing. Give a bit and see what happens. Toss out an idea and see if it sticks. Or, if you are Professor Snape, threaten everyone with death by a very slow and painful poison.

Harry was much more interested in Bolan Beep than Bolan Swan. Bolan Swan required total attention to understand what he was attempting to say and then, in the end, it was usually a guess by Harry. The guessing game was getting old while there was a very beautiful Bolan Beep sitting on the other side.

While Harry was chatting away, Mr. Weasley was feeling very uncomfortable being at such a gathering without his wife by his side. Many years ago Molly and Arthur made a decision to be together at the important gatherings. They had been very successful in keeping the family tradition alive and well. Every birthday; child’s achievement; Arthur’s promotion; graduation from Hogwarts; marriages and even the one death. They even attended the grand opening of Burtrum Maximo’s, much against Arthur’s better judgement. He honestly hoped the shop would fail due to trying times. He was wrong. Of late Arthur was doing everything to remember Molly’s birthday and their marriage anniversary. Important dates that are surprisingly hard to remember. This effort was part of the family glue that kept them close and usually pulling together.

The meal stretched longer than anyone realized. Good food, good company, and convivial conversation. The good feelings continued until Mr. Weasley lent over to Hagrid and said, “Time to get the tent set up or we will run out of day light.”

Hagrid quickly looked up to take stock of the lengthening shadows of the pan flutes and realized Mr. Weasley was correct in his assessment. “Good idea, Think you’re right.” Then turning to Harry he added, “Harry, you ready?” Harry nodded and the three of them made a polite retreat to get things ready for after the show.

Once out of listening range Mr. Weasley started with, “You seem a bit close with Bolan Beep?” He too had noticed how beautiful she was.

Responding to the opening gambit Harry came back with, “She was assigned to me by her father.” Then turning to Hagrid Harry added, “And you said to be polite to her and only say yes.”

“Yer know what I mean.” Growled Hagrid.

“I do. Be nice, polite and say yes.”

“Don’t play the knave with us Harry,” Snapped Mr. Weasley.

“I’m not. I’m doing as I was asked.”

“And she is pretty.”

“Then you go and ask Bolan Swan to give me someone else. Remember I wasn’t planning on this. I was expecting Harveture.”

“So was I.”

Harry quickly came back with, “Then why not take off right now and get back to business?” Then Harry added, “I thought you wanted to talk Harveture and look for a car. What’s stopping us doing it right now?”

Mr. Weasley looked at Hagrid and Hagrid looked back at Mr. Weasley. This standoff continued for several minutes. Finally Hagrid said, “Can’t… can we Arthur?”

“Why not Hagrid?” Mr. Weasley asked. “Leave the tent and just go.”

“Come on Arthur, you know why. You’re Ministry and have responsibilities. It’s expected of you and you know it.” Then Hagrid added, “Don’t mess up this time.”

The three of them walked in silence toward where tents were popping up. Someone had designated a certain area for tents and everyone was complying except for the hardy souls that wanted to sleep out under the stars. They had the area on the side for those stargazers.

At gatherings like this, there were always several astronomers with telescopes to talk to the youngsters about the stars. The stars were a starting point into the world of family stories being retold and passed on to sleepy youngsters. Once the young ones fell by the wayside the talk would get more serious about star origins and why the red shift was being generated while there is a law that states nothing is either created or destroyed: only changed. Can planets, galaxies, etc., really be moving outward, or is it really red because we don’t understand why or how the red shift is being generated.

Then someone always asks the age-old question of why muggles believe in the big bang theory. This lends itself to a lot of pontification with little perspicacity or perspicuousness.

Since everything, as in absolutely everything, follows natural or understandable laws and has re-verifiable properties, then it is clear to wizards that there has always been stuff out there. The simple theory goes like this. Because life is one eternal round, there is no end to matter, there is no end to space, there is no end to the family, and where time does not matter at all. This knowledge has been handed down from the beginning by the fathers of old and has been verified true time after time. This understanding had been lost by the muggles not too long after wizards and muggles split.

That is why the big bang theory is a false sectarian notion perpetuated by the logical fools who only put one eye to the telescope and miss the complete picture. Sad really.

In retrospect, Harry liked his astronomy class even though he did it only through O.W.L. level. He liked astronomy because the class was far away from Professor Snape. Yes, it was hard to learn all the planets, their movements, their alignments and their systems. What he did like was gazing up into the night sky realizing there was much more to life than the view from under the stairs of 4 Privet Close. Having Hermione and Ron close by also helped.

Even with Hagrid and Mr. Weasley there, he still missed his two best friends.

Hagrid did most of the work putting the tent up as he could see Harry was somewhat preoccupied and Arthur was fretting about things. In addition, it gave Hagrid a good excuse to practice his magic. Ever since his wand was reinstated, he had been something like a kid in a sweet shop. Hagrid has been flicking his wand this way and that. Practicing levitation all the way through to potions, spells and even did a stint with a boggart. Actually, the stint turned into a one-sided fight with the boggart refusing to come out, as Hagrid had no real fears. No matter how much cajoling would force the boggart out. In the end, it moved out and on to the next place it could find. Hagrid was very proud about that.

When that happened, Harry began to understand the saying, ‘The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.’ Despite the saying Harry still shuddered when he remembered Ron’s face when he saw all the spiders in the forbidden forest for the first time.

As the tent went up Hagrid looked as a group of girls in the distant. While pointing at the girls Hagrid said to Harry, “See the girl with the golden hair?” Harry looked in the direction Hagrid was pointing but could not tell the girls apart: they were too far away. Harry shook his head. “Look closely.” Harry pulled out his wand and did the tricky magnifying spell, Occulous Engordo only to have a huge pair of glasses dropped right in front of his face. Wrong spell, right outcome. He could see the distant girls quite well.

“The girl with the golden hair came here years ago. Almost married Bolan Swan. Almost, not quite. A brunet stole his heart away. The blond stayed, said she liked the place. Good singer… jes’ in case you bump into her like.”

Somewhat puzzled by Hagrid’s warning, or was it a promise, Harry said, “Will do Hagrid, Will do.” With that, the tent went up and looked very resplendent amidst the other tents.

Harry decided to stretch his legs before the play began. Actually Harry wanted the chance to wander about on his own. He had never seen such a collection of witches and wizards before, except at the  Quidditch World Cup. During those games he was on a tight leash: not so now. Now he could wander about at will and see how forest dwellers live and interact. While Hagrid and Mr. Weasley were preoccupied, Harry wandered off on his own.

Harry’s first experience was a large caldron flying out of a tent, narrowly missing his head. When the caldron crashed into the dirt a steaming greenish substance fell onto the ground and sort of melted the dirt away. A potbellied man came scurrying out to retrieve the caldron. Seeing Harry, the man said, “Missed you, did it?”

Harry nodded in disbelief.

“Poor shot that wife of mine. Should have got you in the middle.” After spitting on the ground the man added, “Don’t like strangers we don’t.” With his recovered caldron, he zipped back into his tent screaming at his wife in words Harry could not understand.

Four tents down the line Harry saw a really old witch leaning against a rope that was holding up the tent. Harry stopped to look closely. He wasn’t sure how anyone could prop themselves up against a rope.

On closer inspection, Harry had to conclude he had never seen a dirtier person in his life. She was short, plump with at least three chins, dressed entirely in grubby black clothing, including a skewed bonnet.

There were furrows on her forehead, crows feet in the corners of her eyes, and lines about the mouth that can only come from years of dragging the last drop out of a home-rolled fag. The lines on her face were etched with the dust, dirt and grime of life. The face of an old person who has lived a hard life now taking a break waiting for the play to start.

“Seen enough?” The old crow fired at Harry. As she did she opened her aqua blue eyes and locked on to Harry’s brown eyes. The start was so startling that Harry was about to turn and run. He had to force himself to hold his ground.

“Thought you were dead… or something.” Was his poor quality reply.

“Dead? Is that all you could think of? Pah. Better have I seen. Should have heard better from… Mr. Potter it is!” The dirty face light up into a smile that revealed a mouth with only three teeth. “Well, well, well. Who would have ever thought old mother Nethinim would live to see Mr. Potter at her doorstep. Never seen this in the cards.” With that, she reached for a pack, and then stopped. Looking closely at Harry she concluded, “You have no faith in the cards, do you?”

Harry shook his head then added, “Seen too much and know how to judge.”

“Seen too much, you think, do you? I would say you have only seen one thing and that was Voldemort. See him and miss the others, you did.” The old hag paused while she fingered her cards through her clothing. “They know you and what you did. Help you they can. Guidance, if you want?”

“Na, I’ll pass. I prefer my ways and friends. We’ve done okay so far. Think we can do okay in the future.”

“Faith I see. Faith to know more than the cards. Faith to carry you forward. Faith to do great things. Many there be to seek you out, to harm all you. Light is what you represent. Light, faith and friends. That light hurts the cards.” Then summing up her strength, she added, “By the cards I live. By the cards I die. The card lady I am and will always be until I die. You are Harry Potter and will always be Harry Potter until you die. May the powers that be judge between thee and me and bless me accordingly. Now go before the cards grow old, cold and show false.” With that, she gesticulated with her arm for Harry to leave, and so he did.

With that, the old hag closed her eyes while she pulled out a brand new pack of cards and went through her ritual of opening the pack, removing the superfluous cards and shuffling the pack five times, each time shuffling the pack back into their original order. There are only a few who can work the card as good as old mother Nethinim: but none as fast and sure as she.

Harry moved on wandering through the tents, past families lolling about outside; children playing broom tag while others were playing a children’s form of Quidditch Harry had not seen before. Always interested in Quidditch Harry wandered that way. Once finding a good spot, he sat down to watch and listen. While the chatter was in a language totally foreign to his ears the changes to his form of Quidditch was absolutely fascinating. The more he watched the more his fingers itched to grab hold of a broom and have a go.

The one move that caught his eye was a rather sly move when going head first at a defending player. It meant going straight at the player and at the last moment doing a spinning move about the opponent. The speed and the spin left the defender stuck while the attacker passed by. Being a seeker Harry did not get many chances for finesse and slay-of-hand moves. He was usually flat out after the snitch. Snitches are not well known for their tricky moves as they are known for their speed, agility, ability to hide, and small size.

The game he was watching was made up of young kids about eight to ten. They seemed to have a height limitation of about twenty feet. Harry thought it should be about ten not twenty. Then again he was not playing. Along the pitch were several parents out enjoying the game, yelling instructions and enjoying a picnic by diving into the hamper on the ground.

As far as Harry could see, the main difference was one ring at both ends, rather than usual three. Of course, bludgers were smaller and did not fly as fast. Despite that, the children whacked the bludgers with every ounce of energy they had. It seemed to Harry they spent more time whacking the bludger at each other than trying to score. Maybe the scoring was by the number of people hit by bludgers rather than points scored.

The closer Harry looked the more he became aware that most of the players were girls. He found it hard to tell boys from girls as they zipped about yelling and screaming at each other and their parents. At that age boys sound about the same as girls.

That was when Harry noticed a small boy sitting beside him. Not knowing what to do he smiled and said, “Hello.” It was not a loud ‘Hello’… it was not a harsh ‘Hello’… it was not a derogatory ‘Hello’… It was enough to stop the game and everyone turned and looked at the stranger in their midst.

A mother screamed at the boy who looked at Harry in a bemused way. The small fellow jumped up and ran toward his mother. The man next to the mother also jumped up and came over to Harry yelling loudly and gesticulating wildly with his hands. Harry jumped to his feet looking for a fast way out of this quickly degenerating situation.

The man, still yelling and gesticulating,  kicked dirt at Harry. As Harry glanced about he could see other men running his way.

Naturally his hand reached for his wand. The situation was rapidly getting out of hand.

The shrill sound cut through the noise of the men. Everyone stopped and turned to look at the old hag heading into the mêlée. As she entered the fray she began speaking harshly at the men. As she spoke she poked the men with her walking stick. Her words were sharp and sure. The men dropped their heads in shame.

The old hag turned to Harry and said, “Put your want up, the cards warned me.” Turning to the men she yelled in an off form of English, “Warned me of you! A disgrace to our family, to our clan and to our way of life. You disgraced yourselves and your family. We,” thumping her chest to add emphasis, “We welcome the stranger, the down and outs, the destitute, and those lost in the forest. We make welcome and here you are betraying yourselves in front of your children. What are you teaching them? They see your actions and do so the same. Shame on you.

“Do any of you know who this stranger is? Well?” There was no reply as everyone was looking at the ground in front of their shoes. “The play tonight is about Harry Potter and how he killed Voldemort. This is Harry Potter.”

From the back of the crowd was another shrill of a scream as Bolan Beep pushed her way through the crowd. When she got to where Harry was standing she looked him over and asked, “Are you okay?” The tenderness in her voice was not lost on the crowd. They also noted her light touch on Harry’s arm.

The old hag took control by bursting forth into a story Harry could not understand. All this flipping from one language to another was trying on the mono linguistic Harry. Therefore, he dutifully stood there suffering the untold gazes of people looking for the scar. The lightning bolt scar that marked him as Harry Potter, while the story of Harry Potter was brought up to date.

“Oh Harry,” Bolan Beep said, “You are so lucky. They meant to do you harm. They don’t like strangers.”

“That’s the problem,” Harry said, “I’m always the stranger. I have this scar,” He revealed the scar by pulling his hair to one side, “That scar makes me a stranger wherever I go. Don’t you see? That is my life for as long as I can remember. I’m to odd one out. I don’t fit in. People step out of the way. That’s how I live.”

Bolan Beep’s eyes welled up in sympathy for her hero. It was noted by the crowd.

Rather than dwell on history, Harry chose to change the future. And he knew how to do it. In a loud and positive voice Harry said, “Since I’m an outsider, how about letting me play some Quidditch with this lot.”

A howl of excitement erupted from the kids. Now they knew it was Harry Potter, the legendary and infinitely famous Harry Potter, the best seeker for miles about, the kids jumped up to grab their brooms and gathered around Harry in admiration.

Harry asked the crowd, “Anyone got an adult broom?” no one did. Not to be deprived of some fun, Harry stuck his hand straight up in the air and yelled, “Accio broom!” Everyone went dead quiet. Everyone was waiting to see what would happen. The silence was total. A full two minutes went by before eyes looked upward toward a slight noise: the noise only a broom can make.

The children and parents broke into a magnificent roar as they saw the Firebolt Supreme VK-X heading their way and landing in Harry’s outstretched hand. Even Harry thought it was pretty nifty considering the distance the spell had to work over.

Harry was half way expecting some comment on his fancy broom. None was forthcoming. These forest dwellers did not follow Harry’s form of Quidditch.

The kids quickly formed into two teams. The team Harry was in had less players. Harry immediately assumed it was because of his presence: and he was right. Kids know how to get things fair and right without any parents messing it up.

The minute they kicked off Harry came under immediate and sustained attach from both teams. Everyone wanted to have the privilege and honor of whacking a bludger and hitting the famous Harry Potter. Harry had to use every ounce of ingenuity to stay on his broom and not be hit. Of course he counterattacked whenever the opportunity presented itself. His counterattacks and foils were tempered to the age of the children.

Because the pitch was smaller Harry could not get up to the usual speeds of a full size pitch. Which meant cutting the corners. Cutting the corners would be very easy to do and keep the chasing player at bay. Not so here. Since the children were smaller, their brooms were likewise smaller. Smaller and more nimble meant they could cut inside Harry as he took the corners.

There was this little tyke of a girl, who couldn’t be more than eight. She was holding her own pacing Harry as he zoomed about the pitch. She was comfortable pacing him on his inside. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was using a small camera snapping photos of Harry doing his best to dodge everything being thrown at him.

Finally, the kids got the measure of Harry Potter and his fancy broom. The first bludger managed to hit the very end of the broom. That was enough to cause Harry to wobble and slow up a tad and that allowed the second Bludger to catch him on the leg. Actually, the second bludger was a deflection as it first hit the little girl who was right beside Harry. She went down hard and the bludger careened into Harry. That was enough for Harry to change things up and fast. Rather than going round and round in a circle he started to fly right at the punky kids. If they wanted action, well, this should get things moving.

The first kid he selected was a boy of some ability. To get to him Harry pulled off a skidding left turn. Skidding turns are a relatively advanced move that threw off the chasing kids and brought him to a point where Harry could accelerate right at the unsuspecting boy. As Harry put on speed the poor boy could see what was about to happen and he froze. A typical deer in the headlights situation. No one expects Harry Potter at full speed. Just as Harry reached the boy, the boy did want most sensible people would do and he fell off the broom and crunched into the dirt.

The ongoing laughter of Harry’s plight suddenly died down and some mother yelled out at her fallen son. The tenor of the situation had suddenly changed. Harry picked on the biggest girl and pulled the same sliding turn, except this time he was upside down on his broom. Why upside down? Simple, no one expects an attack from someone upside down. The sliding turn was executed so nicely Harry was impressed. He skidded across the pitch and caught the end of the girl’s broom with the end of his broom and gives it a flick to eject the poor unsuspecting girl high into the air. Since being heavier then air, she came down with a loud crack indicating something broke. With the loud crack, the mood of the crowd changed again. The fun of having a pile of eager beavers chasing Harry was gone. It was as if they expected Harry to roll over and lose. That is not how Quidditch is played. Simply put, the name of the game is to win. No one remembers second place.  

Seeing it was time to go, Harry dove down, linked hands with Bolan Beep and swung her up behind him on the broom. This move was duly noted by the crowd. Once Bolan Beep was swept up onto the broom, she slipped her hands about Harry to hold on properly. Even though it was only a short distance to their seats for the play, everyone noted who was on the broom as there was only one broom in the sky.

Once seated Harry commanded the broom to go home to Hogwarts as he still considered that his home… for the moment.

Sitting up front was Bolan Swan and wife while on his left was Bolan Beep, then Harry. On the other side of Harry was Hagrid. Behind Hagrid was Mr. Weasley. Mr. Wealsey chose that seat to keep and eye on Harry. Mr. Weasley and Harry were still under the strict rules of Harveture even though they seemed to have gone out of the window with all this play stuff.

Hagrid was dressed in some resplendent robes and had his umbrella, upon which he was leaning. Mr. Weasley was similarly well dressed in quality ministerial attire.

In front of Harry and Hagrid was a plate of brownies, biscuits, digestives and other snack food. Harry, along with everyone else at Hogwarts, knew Hagrid had a sweet tooth for certain chocolate brownies, just like the ones on the plate. Someone had provided a good supply of Hagrid’s favorite. Harry concluded that Hagrid was being treated a little on the special side. Now Harry’s curiosity was peaked, he was wondering if Hagrid’s part in the play might, somehow, be expanded.

Just before six o’clock, the sky was dimmed by a covering spell. Harry thought it was like being at the theatre, the lights dim just before the play starts. And then the action begins.

From stage left appeared the narrator complete with large red book. He walked purposefully to center stage, gave a bow, and started to talk. While he talked, Bolan Beep leaned closely to Harry and started translating so Harry could follow the play. This closeness was duly noted by Mr. Wealsey and the crowd behind him.

With a snap of the red book closing, the narrator left the stage and a hush came over everyone. In the distance came the roar of a large capacity motor bike. The noise got closer and closer and there in the sky was Hagrid’s double on the fateful motorbike. The roar was deafening as it came in for a landing on center stage. Harry glanced at Hagrid and caught Hagrid wiping away a tear of a memory that happened so long ago.

The action commenced with Hagrid searching through the rubble of a destroyed house. Then a baby cried and Hagrid dug faster and deeper. Suddenly Hagrid pulled out a neatly wrapped baby to the enthusiastic cheers or the audience. Obviously, this was good entertaining stuff for the assembled. The lights dimmed a bit and the next scene is Hagrid walking to a house that suddenly appeared on the stage. The address was 4 Privet Close. Standing quietly in the background were two actors representing Professor’s Dumbledore and McGonagall. In this version, it was Hagrid that placed the baby at the door. In this version, it was Hagrid that tucked Harry up and slipped the note in his little cot. The on-lookers were bit players in this part of the action.

The play quickly went through the next several years, providing small vignettes onto Harry’s life. Then the play slowed up as Harry approached his eleventh birthday.

As the play went on, Hagrid steadily attacked the stack of brownies. They were dwindling rapidly under the onslaught. Of course, Harry was not slow in consuming his fair share. At this point, the count was down to one. From now on Harry played close attention to Hagrid. It has been commented on, documented, and retold many times that Hagrid is a sly dog when it comes to the last brownie. In fact, he will go to great lengths to obtain the last one.

In some circles, the last brownie is won by the telling of a particularly sad tail. In other circles, a song of woe had to be sung. While others demand an original poem of woe and sadness. The winner of the last brownie is the saddest tail as mutually agreed upon by the participants.

Hagrid had developed several excellent brownie-winning stories and had a wide repertoire of ballads he could call upon to win a brownie or two. Poems were his weak point.

Then there were those unscrupulous individuals that simply took the last brownie and stuffed it into their mouth so as not to lose it to Hagrid.

Harry noticed the usual signs. Hagrid glancing left then right. He did it several times to check for action by others. Then came the slow head rotation. A quick glance behind to the right followed by one to the left. Next was stretching. Hagrid raised up one arm then the other. A few good stretches this way and that. Cracking of knuckles and then out came the large, and well used, handkerchief. Not to use, just for show. By now, most people would be bored with Hagrid’s antics: not the counters. The count was rapidly coming down to the final action Hagrid scooted to the edge of his seat and leaned on his umbrella one last time. By now Hagrid was within striking range of the last scrumptious brownie. Harry was on countdown. Everyone knew a sigh would be next followed by the quick hand grab. All Harry had to do was move when Hagrid sighed and get the last brownie for himself.

The sigh came and Harry dove for the brownie and picked it off the plate nice and easy. He turned to smile at Hagrid. As he did so Hagrid’s right hand grabbed Harry’s wrist in a vice like grasp… and then all hell broke lose.


	7. Fight to the Death and Rescue

**May 30, 1998** **– Saturday Evening**

 

_When I was a boy, I had a dream_

_All I wanted was to be free_

_Free from the Dursley’s and under the stairs_

_Free from being punched and yelled at._

_When I was a boy, I had this dream._

 

Attr Jeff Lynne.

Early version

 

The first salvo of three jets of green lights screamed right over Harry. Or rather, the three green lights of an Avada Kedavra spell hit the location where Harry should have been if he had not bent over to get the last brownie. At the same instant Hagrid pulled Harry down to the ground and kicked him hard in the small of the back and yelled, “Roll and find cover. I’ll draw their fire.”

Hagrid let go of Harry and began to use his umbrella as a shield while firing back spells as fast as he could. Each spell was meant to kill. This was not some practice at Hogwarts, this was a premeditated attack, meant to kill or cause as much harm as possible. If it weren’t for Hagrid’s boot in the back and yell, Harry would be dead.

The split second Harry started rolling there was a scream of pain and someone dropped into the space Harry had just occupied. Harry rolled hard and as fast as he could. He was past scared, he was petrified by the suddenness and senselessness of it all. He was using his elbows, knees, and feet to keep rolling, rolling and rolling. There is one major problem with rolling over flat and rocky ground, it’s relatively slow. As he rolled, Harry’s clothes quickly took a beating and soon he was bleeding here and there.

The sudden noise of the spells zipping about: the yells to loved ones: the constant swearing: screams of warnings: and the rushing of people struggling for basic survival became the backdrop of the maelstrom that picked Harry and everyone else to participate in.

Two blue and one yellow curse exploded inches to Harry’s left side. A reddish globe burst right behind him. Realizing he was moving too slow, Harry tried to pick up the pace. As he rolled over the ground, he was looking for some place he could use to flick up and use some of his new Hogwarts skills of jumping up and down tall places. As Harry rolled, he realized this terrain gave all the advantages to the attackers as Harry and the others were in the shallow bowl of the theatre.

Kicking hard with his right foot, he flipped over. As he did so, a particularly nasty hex came flying by and cut off the sole of his shoe. It spun Harry about. He regrouped got steady and quickly moved his other foot as the second hex came zooming by, narrowly missing its target.

Harry gave a quick glance about and saw nothing of the attackers. All he could see was a constant barrage of all sorts of magical spells, hexes, curses and other nasty things being thrown at the defenseless people who were watching the play.

Harry pulled his legs in tight and did a high back flip to gain elevation and find a better protected spot. As he kicked up three curses came in from three different directions and obliterated the spot he was just in. Someone had the measure of his abilities and location. A thought flashed across his mind wondering is someone was playing with their meal.

The very moment he had two feet on the ground a yellow flash of light came screeching at Harry. Harry just had time to lean back as the spell cut across his forehead and blood immediately started to drip onto his glasses.

Harry’s heart was thumping hard and wild as he pulled out his wand. As Belatrix would say, “you have to mean it.” And Harry was meaning it this time.

Harry leapt up at least ten feet and elevated several large stones so he could use them as platforms from which to stand. As Harry moved about the stone had to be in the right place and elevation at the right time. This is what they had practiced only a few days ago at Hogwarts. With the stones constantly moving, Harry could continuously be on the move to avoid the incoming attack.  

Since defense was pointless, Harry went on the attack. The problem was, he could not see the attackers. All he could see was when a spell came his way. Obviously, the spells must have originated from a witch or wizard’s hand. That is what he concentrated on: where he thought the spell came from. The only problem with that was, there were too many attackers, and they had the high ground. Between defense and attack, attacking was his only option if he wanted a chance to survive.

Rather than be nice, Harry went straight for Avada Kedavra, the non-verbal version as it is quicker. It was hard to say if he hit anyone as the sky was thick with spells coming and going.

Whosoever was tracking Harry quickly caught on to the new game. They followed the stones and simply blasted the spare stones into smithereens reducing Harry’s options, thus tipping the advantage their way.

Now Harry had some idea where the spells were coming from he began to concentrate on one location. As he did so his heart kept pounding away. Harry kept on ignoring the thumping as he was already in a life and death struggle.

Coming clearly to his mind was all the nasty stuff he read in the Half Blood Prince’s _Advanced Potion Making_  book. Honing in on Professor Snape’s writings, Harry changed spells as he thought that would give him an advantage. He was right, it did. Again the trouble was, he could not see the damage he was causing. The problem remained; Harry could not see what he was firing at. It looked like there was some one, some person, some creature high up shooting down causing maximum death and destruction.

Harry was calling up more stones to create more platforms to jump from and to. A moving target is harder to shoot down. Therefore, Harry kept moving as fast as possible.

The foot without a sole slipped and Harry landed badly. He fell to the edge of the stone, glancing down, he let go and went into a forward roll dive.

Harry did a triple summersault on the way down landing on one of the pipes. Not stopping, Harry leaped for the top platform on the stage and with a flick of his wand set all the fireworks off at once. He was hoping this could throw some illumination on his precarious situation.

As the fireworks started going off the sudden bursts of light allowed Harry a quick glance of the scale of destruction. Bodies here and there. Men, women and children in unnatural positions. Constant fire power coming inwards and very few outward spells.

This was supposed to be a celebration; no one was expecting this mayhem. As he leapt onto the stage, Harry landed near his play double: dead with a look of pain on his face.

A blast hit the spot where Harry had landed. He had moved, as being in one place for one second was now a death sentence.

As Harry glanced up he noticed a shimmer in the light caused by a firework. The shimmer registered with Harry. That shimmer comes from only one thing, a cloak of invisibility. Harry racked his brain for an anti-cloak spell. Nothing came. Invisibility cloaks are not on the official Hogwarts list of things to buy for school. Rather than go for an anti-invisibility spell Harry went for a fire spell. Cloaks burn so why not these. The first flaming spell shot out the end of Harry’s wand like a shooting star. The flaming spell hit home bursting into flames and engulfing whatever it was. Harry got several more flaming spells out before the attackers turned to concentrate on him. The problem with a flaming spell was the tail: it pointed right back at the point of origination. So Harry ran across the stage firing flaming spell after flaming spell. A moving target is harder to hit, so is firing off flaming spells with a high degree of accuracy.

Slowly Harry came under intense attack. As good as Harry is, the shear concentration of firepower meant Harry was running out of options and running out fast.

Changing it up again Harry tried a few Diffindo spells to see if that would reveal anything, Again, he was overpowered by the shear volume of spells heading his way.

Harry rolled, leaped, and sidestepped his way back to the pan flutes. At least they offered some protection. As he took a breath, a spell zipped between him and the rock of the flute. The spell cut across he shoulders from left to right. The pain caused his back to arch. A second spell cut across the back of his legs causing him to crash to the ground on his knees. The pain was excruciating. He tried getting up and another hex came flying from somewhere and neatly took off his other shoe sole. Things were not looking good for Harry as his strength, ability to move, and willingness to extricate himself was ebbing.

Harry looked down at his wand hand. There was a deep gash across the back. He didn’t remember when that happened. His glasses were more red than clear. His back was slashed across and now he could not stand. At this moment, all Harry could think of was Ginny’s apple crumble. All he wanted was a taste of what she had made for him.

Fumbling with his moleskin pouch he pushed his left hand in to pull out a small morsel of crumble. In so doing, he pushed the wands aside. And that was all the room they needed.

All the wands poured out of the moleskin purse and formed up on Lily Potter’s wand. They immediately commenced on one of the most destructive battles known in the annuals of the forest dwellers.

With a vicious vindictiveness the velite wands spun, twirled, formed circles, boxes, came in high then low while letting loose a withering barrage of the worst spells, hexes, jinx’s possible. While they took the battle to the attackers Lily’s wand stayed close to her prostrate son.

Of all the wands, none was more destructive than Professor Snape’s was. Since Professor Snape was from the Slytherin camp, he was particularly skilled in the dark arts. Spells long read over. Spells long ago giggled about but never done. Spells that now could be unleashed upon attackers who used cloaks of invisibility to hide behind.

Even the wands that Mr. Olivander said were duds were imbued with a sense, purpose and ability none thought possible.

The battle raged on and on. The surrounding firepower was still concentrated on Harry’s location, particularly the pan flutes. The aim was to blast the stones causing them to fall onto Harry. His mother’s wand did not allow that to happen. She cast protective spell after protective spell over her son so that the rocks just bounced off.

As fast as the spells came in the pirouetting wands were constantly sending back spell for spell, curse for curst, hex for hex, jinx for jinx: but they did it better and faster since they were only wands without a hand.

Then the wands formed a tumbling circle inside a larger tumbling circle. Because of the compactness of this formation, extremely high firepower could be brought to bear on one attacker at a time. Because of this constant change, the attackers didn’t have a clue what was going on.

Seeing the state Harry was in, his mother’s wand knew help was needed and needed quickly. That’s when all the wands switched to Harry’s flaming spell.

Not many people can withstand a barrage of flaming spells. To add a little zip to the action Professor Snape’s wand sent out his Sectumsempra spell. That spell was very useful in cutting through the hardened cloaks of invisibility.

The tide had changed. The attackers now became the hunted. Without their cloaks of invisibility, they became mere mortals riding their animals into an easy, one sided, fight. They had not counted on Harry Potter and his collection of wands. While the wands were shooting out flaming spells at an alarmingly high rate, Lily’s wand was shooting rockets high into the air where they exploded into a myriad of white stars that gracefully arched over and fell back to earth. She was trying to attract attention, and succeeded. Neville Longbottom saw the white stars from far, far across the forbidden forest Feeling trouble was afoot he pushed Harry’s broom as hard as it could go to get there as fast as he could. The speed the broom reached made everything a blur. Struggling against the wind Neville reached into his pocket and started turning his DA coin to summon the others.

 

*  *  *

 

Everyone knew Harry had entered the Forbidden Forest with Mr. Weasley to do his Harveture interview. No one knew that Hagrid was with them. Everybody knows the interview is supposed to be between potential son-in-law and the father of the potential bride. Nobody knew a third person was present. Then again, no one was thinking Mr. Weasley would combine a Harveture interview with fetching a feral Ford Anglia from the forbidden forest. In addition, no body had ever thought that they would get mixed up with forest dwellers.

Back at Hogwarts, things were slow since all the guys, except Neville, had decided to head over the Hogsmeade for a wander about, do some shopping and have a bite to eat at Aberforth’s Hog's Head Inn. Since no one was supposed to know the boys were at Hogwarts doing all sorts of things, everyone seemed to know exactly what they were doing. It seems some Glasgow girls took it upon themselves to pop over the Hog’s Head on the off chance of seeing the boys.

Rather than join the others, Neville felt that this excellent opportunity to mess about at Hogwarts comes once every blue moon and he didn’t want to loose the opportunity. He stayed behind to practice new and exciting stuff.

Since the Battle of Hogwarts Neville was a person reborn. The flood of owls carrying proposals of marriage was phenomenal. It got so busy that the owlery had to start taking reservations and turned away every owl that didn’t have one.

Then there were parcels. They came in all shapes and sizes. Neville contacted the post office and requested all parcels be redirected to his aunt’s house. He thought she would have fun going through all the stuff sent to him. As much as he appreciated the attention, he was still the same old Neville with two parents in St Mungo’s and a feisty aunt.

Neville was interested in the trick Snape had used to leap off the higher floors and landing safely on the flagstone floor at the entrance hall.  Many years ago, Neville remembered seeing an old muggle movie of people leaping over a first floor bannister and landed safely on the ground floor by doing the splits. Snape did it a whole lot better without resorting to the splits.

Neville had found several reasonable spells after some deep searching in the forbidden section of the library. Neville loved the forbidden section just as much as Hermione loved the restricted section.

Neville had achieved first and second floor leap pretty quickly. The third floor was a bit more tricky and required several spell modifications.

Sitting next to the left armor by the front door was Madam Pomfrey. She had popped into Hogwarts to get her list of medical items needed for the upcoming school year. She was aghast that Neville was trying these foolish tricks without any medical personnel nearby. She promptly sat by the large oak doors, pulled out some knitting she was working on and kept muttering to herself, “Glad this one’s graduated.” Then she would glance up at Neville balancing on top of one or the other stone banisters, looking at his cheat sheet, and muttering the spell before leaping off.

Leaping from the first and second floor was easy for Neville. The leap from the third floor was tricky, but Neville got it. The fourth floor required Madam Pomfrey to quickly cast a pillow spell or else Neville would have smashed into the floor at too high a rate of speed. After profuse thank you’s Neville sat on the pillow to work out what went wrong. His next attempt went awry and Madam Pomfrey did her pillow spell again. Neville nailed it on his next attempt.

The fifth floor leap was fun as now Neville was getting the hang of it. On his fifth floor repeat, he did a forward roll then landed comfortably on his feet. Even Madam Pomfrey was impressed but kept that fact to herself. She did not want all this praise going to Neville’s head.

Sitting cross-legged up on the sixth floor Neville did some serious review of the spell. He was getting up there and needed to adjust the rate of retardation to safely land on his feet. A slight error at this height could get Madam Pomfrey into too much action: not good for Neville’s recently found do-or-die reputation.

Neville’s first attempt from the sixth floor was a total failure and needed one of Madam Pomfrey’s pillows. While Neville lay in the pillow Madam Pomfrey put down her knitting and walked carefully over to where Neville was thinking. She took one look at him and said, “Mean it or get out.”

Neville could not believe what he just heard. He sat bolt upright and blurted out, “What did you say?”

“Do the spell like you mean it or quit.” After a half second pause, she then added, “Which part of ‘do’ or ‘don’t’ didn’t you understand?”

Neville jumped off the pillow saying, “Okay… okay. Mean it or else.”

“Good.” was all Madam Pomfrey said as she walked back to her chair. She picked up her knitting and continued where she left off while Neville walked up the stairs repeating the spell over and over again.

Neville stood on the banisters of the sixth floor looking down. He drew in his breath and yelled out the spell at the top of his lungs as he did a swallow dive followed by a forward roll and landed with arms out with his right foot slightly in front of his left foot.

“About time,” Madam Pomfrey muttered as she got back to her knitting. Neville used the newly discovered stone steps spell to go back up to the sixth floor to do it all again. This time Neville mixed it up. Rather than stand there and jump, Neville walked back down the corridor, turned, and came at the banister in a flat out sprint. Yelling the spell at the top of his voice, Neville leapt cleanly over the banister, put out his arms and nailed the landing. Madam Pomfrey nodded slightly to acknowledge Neville’s ever increasing skill set.

Just as he began heading up to try a seventh floor leap, a small screechy owl came zooming in and crashed into a stunned Neville. The owl hit the ground with a thud. Neville quickly scooped up the tiny owl and began stroking it to make sure it was okay. Seeing a note Neville took it off the owl’s leg and unfolded it

 

_Neville: I have a bad feeling about Harry. It happened a bit ago. Can you have a look and make sure he is okay? I can’t, I have to stay in the house. You are about the closest. Have a look about the forbidden forest and see if there is something going on. Ginny._

 

Neville knew of the closeness between people and did not doubt Ginny or her message. The problem was, the forbidden forest is a big place: where to start?

“What is it?” Madam Pomfrey called out.

Before Neville could answer a second, but larger owl came zooming in, did a tight circle about Neville and landed on his shoulder. Neville quickly retrieved the second message and unfolded it.

 

_Neville: GO NOW!!!  Ginny._

 

Neville ran, grabbed a broom and headed out into the late afternoon. He left Madam Pomfrey with the two notes at Hogwarts.

Neville flew high to cover more territory. The problem with flying high over trees is you can’t see anything below the tops of the trees. Conversely, if you fly low to see the details below the trees, you miss the bigger picture. Between the two, Neville stayed high, hoping that would be the better choice. As he flew about he was constantly leaning to one side or the other straining to spot something down there.

While stooging about the forest, looking down, concentrating on the never-ending greenery, Neville saw something streaking across the sky. It was too faraway and going too fast to worry about. He was looking for people, not chasing streaks of something in the sky.

The searching continued. Neville tried to make it an orderly search. Without benchmarks an orderly search was tough to do. Thinking about it, Neville realized he should have called up some of the other DA’s.

After a long while of getting nowhere, getting lost and getting sore from all the flying Neville decided to head back to Hogwarts. Without a better guide, there was not much else worth doing. It was about six in the evening when Neville called it quits. As he getting close to Hogwarts, a broom came zooming through the sky heading in the Hogwarts direction.

Neville put on some speed and followed the broom as best he could, but he was on an older and slower broom. Since he could not keep up, Neville fired a tracer spell at the fast moving broom. That way he could find the broom once it had gone to ground.

Unsurprisingly the tracer went all the way back to Hogwarts. Once off the broom Neville followed along on foot. The spell took Neville to Snape’s office. Even with Snipe being dead, and all that, everyone was weary of Shape’s office despite everything Harry had said.

Neville eased up to the door. Rather than use his hand, he used a simple door opening spell. The door opened and Neville peaked into the still cluttered room. Sitting resplendently on the desk was Harry’s Firebolt Supreme VK-X. Rather than walk in and pick it up Neville used the simple Accio spell to summon the broom: he did not trust even a dead Snape. The broom came and once out of the room the door slammed shut causing Neville to jump and quickly move away.

Coming along the corridor at a high rate if speed was Madam Pomfrey. Once she saw Neville with Harry’s broom she quickly said, “Well, aren’t you going to follow it back?” The blank look on his face said it all. Madam Pomfrey sighed and then said, “A simple Retracto spell will take you back to the beginning.”

“Oh,” was all Neville said. On his way out Neville grabbed a couple spare brooms. Neville thought, “Since this was Harry’s broom, what was Harry doing for a broom… that is, if he needs one.”

Off Neville went letting the Retracto spell do its thing. Rather than taking the assumed western road through the forest, the broom took a more eastern route. This was all new territory to Neville.

He sped along through the sky flying high to take in a far and wide view. On and on Neville went. He saw nothing but the evening air and a cloudless sky.

Just as the sun was setting, Neville saw the first of a series of shooting stars far off in the distant. They came from the ground, shooting high into the air. They looked really pretty and gentile. Someone wanted to be noticed. That was when a sense of foreboding swept over him. Kicking the broom in to high speed, Neville took off like the proverbial rocket. While zooming off he reached into his pocked and started summoning the other DA’s by using his coin.

Despite looking close, the shooting stars were not. It took Neville quite a while to get close to the stars. It was like the closer you thought you were, the further you had to go. Later, Neville would say there was a spell about the place that made distances stretch. No one, except Harry, believed him.

By the time Neville arrived at the spot of the shooting stars it was dark. Neville clipped his wand onto Harry’s broom to get some forward light.

Without any force, the broom curled in on the Pan Stones. At that time all Neville saw were tall stones. It was much later he knew what they were.

At the base of a stone pillar was a small white light. It was resting on a blood splattered, crumpled up body that was sort of half kneeling with the head sort of between his knees and the stone.

Every year, every Hogwarts student goes through a weekend NOLS class. Neville’s training kicked in. First, was to survey the scene. Neville did this as the broom circled downward. He saw nothing to bother him. His first general impression was bad. He could see no encouraging signs.

Neville touched ground right next to the body and did an initial assessment going through ABCDE. Neville took a deep breath and started his secondary assessment with a limited physical exam. Since the body was crumpled up, it was impossible to do a full physical exam. Then Neville noted all vital signs. Things were not looking good. 

Neville tried to roll the body over to see if it was Harry. The body was too crumpled up to roll over gently. Rather then mess about, Neville put two hands on the body and gave it a heave to get it onto the ground. With a flop the body rolled over. To see if it was Harry or not, Neville spat into his hand and gave the forehead a rub. That was the wrong thing to do. The renegade spell that cut Harry’s forehead was eating into his flesh. The pain shot through Harry causing him to yell out in pain and thrash about. Not a pretty site. By looking at the glasses and the part of the face that was not covered in blood Neville knew it was Harry.

Skipping over a couple of steps, Neville know the only choice he had was evacuation. Summoning all three brooms, Neville spent some time strapping two brooms together to form a gurney. Once done he placed the brooms next to Harry and rolled him on. To keep Harry secure, Neville used a couple ducto bindo spells. After checking his work, Neville mounted Harry’s broom and took off towing Harry behind. To get back to Hogwarts Neville used a Retro Retracto spell.

Because of Harry’s precarious situation, Neville wanted to get back as fast as he could. However, he didn’t want to too fast and drop Harry: So, he went as fast as cautiously possible.

On and on he went; constantly looking back at Harry; incessantly scanning the tree line for Hogwarts, and wondering what on earth happened to Harry to get him into such a state as this. Time dragged by and Neville went on and on. Every now and again, he would reach into his pocket and give his coin a roll to let the others know what’s going on.

The night air, the long distance to travel and having to do so much broom flying had combined to make Neville cold and because of being so cold he was shaking which made everything shake including Harry who was being towed behind. Neville tried all sorts of tricks and spells to keep worm. None worked. So he gritted his teeth knowing Harry was a lot worse off than he was.

Finally, off in the distance the recognizable shape of Hogwarts formed. Fortunately, someone had turned on all the lights to make Hogwarts stand out from afar. Neville rolled the coin once more and out tumbled all the DA’s from between the large oak doors of Hogwarts.

The landing was not Neville’s best. Once on the ground Madam Pomfrey immediately took command. She took one look and Harry and he was taken up to the hospital wing where Madam Pomfrey set to work. She kicked everyone out except Ginny. Madam Pomfrey did not want to get between a couple that had gone through the ring ceremony.

Madam Pomfrey spoke and Ginny jumped. After a quick scan of the damage, Madam Pomfrey yelled to the others to get an ambulance from St. Mungo’s… and make it pronto.

Like the Knight Bus, St Mungo’s had a series of wizard ambulances called the Evening Star Line. They prided themselves in being there before you called them. A slight exaggeration, only a slight one.

Within a blink of an eye, two Evening Star attendants were entering the hospital ward. Madam Pomfrey glanced up and said, “This is a fast one Bert. Take him to the fourth floor – Spell Damage. They’ll be waiting.” Then pointing at Ginny she added, “This one goes with him.” With that, Ginny quickly followed the Evening Star men down to the ambulance. The second Harry was secured they were off to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.


	8. Is it a Dream or Not?

**May 30, 1998** **– Saturday Evening**

 

_Harry woke to find "To bed! To bed!"_

_Says Sleepy-head;_

_"Tarry awhile," says Slow;_

_"Put on the pan,"_

_Says Greedy_ _Nan_ _,_

_"We'll sup before we go."_

 

English Nursery Rhyme

 

Harry woke to find himself lying on a park bench. On the next bench was Professor Dumbledore: he was reading a book. Professor Dumbledore snapped the book shut and said, “Ah, you are finally awake. I was beginning to wonder if I should have packed two not one book.”

Harry propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look at Professor Dumbledore. “Where are we this time?” Harry asked as he gazed about the white surroundings.

“I deduce that this is not Kings Cross Station because Kings Cross Station does not have this wall running through it.” That was when Harry noticed the wall that was behind the bench.

The wall was not a big or tall wall. Once sitting up Harry glanced about and noted the wall was a very long wall. The wall ran off into the far distant to his left and to the right.

“My or your wall?” Asked Harry.

“On the balance of it I would have to say yours. Nasty cut across your forehead.” Observed Professor Dumbledore. Harry missed the reference.

“Am I dead or not dead? Like last time?”

“Hard to say really. All depends if this is real or not real. Was last time real or only in your head? Difficult to say. So, let’s think this one through. Here we are, the two of us, sitting on a park benches beside a wall that seems to be a very long wall. Since the park benches seems to be a perfectly normal park benches, then I would have to conclude the wall is the odd one out. Long walls are not in fashion these days. Since you are young and agile, why don’t you have a peek over the wall?”

Without further encouragement, Harry jumped onto the back of the bench and pulled himself up to the top of the wall so he could look across.

“Well?” Asked Professor Dumbledore.

“It’s black as far as I can see.”

“Both directions?”

Harry looked hard in both directions then replied with, “Black as far as I can tell.”

“Good reporting Harry. One last thing. Put your arm out and see if you can touch anything.”

“Put my arm into this black lot… are you sure?”

“Pretty sure if my hypothesis is correct.”

“And if it is not?”

“Then something nasty will happen. But I must assure you it will not.”

“Is this another ‘trust me’ moment?”

Professor Dumbledore chuckled then added, “Of course it is.”

Harry smiled then stuck out his hand. It bumped into something at the very edge of the blackness. He tried several times and each time he was rebuffed at the border. “I keep hitting something.”

“Humm, thought so. Okay, come on down. I think it is time to formulate a plan.” When they were sitting on the bench, Professor Dumbledore started with, “Do you think the black of the other side is good or bad?”

“Black is always bad… isn’t it?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

Thinking about it for a moment, Harry said, “Asking.”

“Ah, now we are making progress. Admitting a lack of knowledge is not a bad thing. Actually, it allows us to move forward. Now, if you remember your youth and playing with paints, how did you make the colour black?”

“You are kidding, aren’t you?”

“Oh contraire, I am not. Again, let’s think about this carefully. Black, how is it made?”

Harry had not touched paints in an awful long time. He had to stretch back to when he was over at Mrs. Figg’s place. Mrs. Figg loved playing with paints and dabbled in minimal face painting: always in black. While she practiced, Harry messed about with water paints. “It’s a mess of everything… right?”

“Happily you are correct. To make black you toss in every colour you have, and, bingo, black. Now, from that little bit of deduction, try and apply it to our situation. Here we have a wall that has black on the other side.”

“Then it should have a bit of everything there to make it black… right?”

“Right, absolutely right. I think we can safely say, once on the other side you shall find a bit of everything.”

“Everything as in everything, or just a regular everything.?”

“That I shall leave up to you to discover. One step at a time Harry. One step at a time.”

Harry jumped up on the back of the park bench to have another look over the wall. It did not look as inauspicious this time.

“What do you mean by discover?” Harry queried.

“Since we are here, then we must ask the question, ‘why are we here?’”

“We are here because we are” Harry said, “Last time there was nothing to learn… was there?”

“Are you asking or telling?” Asked Professor Dumbledore.

“Ah, asking.”

“Actually there was a lot to learn. The main one being that poor unfortunate creature, slowly dying.”

“Was he?”

“Oh most assuredly. The soul is robust, if left alone. That was not Lord Voldemort’s plan for immortality. Hence, his soul was slowly dying while yours was, and is, in pristine condition. Hence the difference.”

“Okay, that was then and this is now.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” Harry said firmly. “This is different.” Then he asked the salient question, “How do I get over the wall?”

“Bravo Harry, bravo. That is the question isn’t it. As you can clearly see by standing up there, the direct approach is blocked: as it should be. Since you are a newly minted wizard from Hogwarts, the approach will be challenging.

“Some other way?” Harry queried.

“Keep going along that thought,” Professor Dumbledore said in an encouraging tone.

“Okay,” said Harry, “Then… It’s pointless having a wall without having a way getting over it. That is assuming there is a way to get over the wall.”

“Get over?”

“Okay, to get to the other side.”

“That’s better.”

“Okay,” Harry said thoughtfully, “What is the wall for? Is to keep something in or something out?”

“Excellent thought Harry,” Beamed Professor Dumbledore, “Good latitude thinking.”

Harry regrouped with, “Walls are usually built to keep something in or out. And there is usually a way to the other side.”

“Good summation. Shall we set off on foot going one way or the other to see what we shall see? Professor Dumbledore asked.

“I’d go by broom.” Harry quickly added. Tramping along a wall of unknown length did not appeal to him.

“Do you have one?”

With a broad smile, Harry said, “No.” then he stuck out his hand and said “Accio broom.” They both waited, nothing happened. “Then Harry said, “Suppose spells don’t work here.”

“The wall is here,” Professor Dumbledore said in an encouraging tone. “May not be the same magic taught at Hogwarts, but I can assure you there is magic here,” With a wave of his hand, he added, “Just look around you at all this.”

After gazing about Harry asked, “What if the wall is here to keep us, on this side of the wall, separate from them, on the other side of the wall?”

Professor Dumbledore replied with,” Then we must ask to question why? Do they have something we do not have that would be desirable to have? Or, do they have something best kept out of our amiable society?”

“Haven’t thought of that.”

Professor Dumbledore continued with, “Sometimes walls are built for our protection.” That thought had not crossed Harry’s mind. Professor Dumbledore continued with, “Remember, every sward has two edges.” Seeing Harry getting a bit disappointed, Professor Dumbledore added, “Until you get across, there is no way of knowing what is there and is it beneficial or detrimental to our well being.”

“So you are saying,” Harry said, “That we have to go and look?”

“Isn’t that the point of having the wall with us?”

Harry stood up and paced about. As he did so, he ran his fingers through his hair. That’s when he realized he needed a haircut soon.

Harry jumped back up on the bench for another look. While Harry was leaning on top of the wall gazing down its length, Professor Dumbledore asked, “Do you remember what happened?”

Harry thought for a moment, then added in a flat voice, “Yeah, I was watching a play and then I can’t remember”

“Can you remember the point in the play that you can’t remember?”

Harry thought for a while, struggling to find the memories. Finally he had to admit, “To be honest, it’s not all that clear.”

“Oh well, that can’t be helped. So while you search for your lost memories, why don’t we talk about this fine, upright wall.”

Harry looked at the wall and said in a non-committal voice, “Okay.”

“How many walls like this have you seen?” Professor Dumbledore asked.

“None.” Was the sure reply.

“Exactly,” Countered Professor Dumbledore. Then he added, “What about stories, legends, odes, and the like?”

Harry shrugged his shoulders and said, “Don’t remember anything.”

“Ah yes, growing up muggle, you might have missed out on a few things. Then again, to be honest, walls are not a particularly hot topic these days either. When I was a slim youngster, there was a threat my mother used to keep us in line. It went something like this.”

 

_If you don’t clean your teeth and say our prayers,_

_Over the wall you go – Ho – ho!_

 

Professor Dumbledore looked at Harry and Harry looked back at Professor Dumbledore. Finally, Professor Dumbledore said, “Maybe to a muggle that does not sound too impressive. Believe you me, to a young wizard being tossed over the wall was the worst thing possible.”

“Why?”

“Because it meant you were never coming back.”

“Oh,”

“Yes, a very big Oh. So, we did as we were told and hurried off to bed before mother told us a second time. We knew there was no third time as a young boy down the road never came back to school one day and his mother said it was because he never did his teeth or said his prayers three times in a row.”

“Really?”

“Most assuredly, really. And, as you know, most stories have some spark of truth to them.”

“You mean not cleaning our teeth or saying your prayers?”

“Nice try Harry… No, the part about the wall. Legend has it there is a wall out there that cannot be climbed over or gone around. Legend says there is only one way to the other side. And that way is through the church, over the graveyard and through the door in the wall.”

After a quiet period, Harry had to ask, “And what has all that got to do with me?”

“All depends if this is your dream of mine. If it is yours, then this wall is yours. If it is my dream, then I shall have a problem as my mortal remains are in the grave. Without mortal hands I can not open a physical door.”

Harry smiled and said, “Use magic.”

“Very droll Harry. Join me and let’s see now you would do it.”

“So, I’m not dead?”

“On balance I would have to say no.” Then, after studying Harry’s forehead he added, “The scar of Lord Voldemort should see off the new scar trying to form. The bonds between you and Voldemort are still there despite him being dead and you being alive. Hence, on balance, I would say you shall recover to face another day.

“And let me congratulate you and Miss. Weasley on the ring ceremony. Classic, absolutely classic. One in the eye to the Ministry of Magic as that is something they have no control over. And before you ask, yes Harry, there is magic out there not under the control of the Ministry. You have found one and that is the love between a boy and a girl. A power so great that it is better the Ministry is left out of it.”

Harry climbed down and the two of them sat on the park bench, sat there in perfect quietness. Finally, Professor Dumbledore pulled out his book and started to read while Harry pondered what they had just talked about.

Breaking the spell of silence, Harry asked, “So, what’s so special about this wall?”

Still leaning over his book, Professor Dumbledore replied with, “I was hoping you could throw some light on that subject.”

“Me?”

“Well, it is your dream.”

“I don’t know nothing about any wall.”

“Are you saying you don’t know anything about this particular wall, or walls in general?”

“Both.”

“A very commendable reply under the circumstances. Therefore, you claim no knowledge about this particular wall?”

Harry replied with a short, “Yep.”

“Then why is it here?” Professor Dumbledore said slowly while he continued to read his well worn book

Harry shrugged his shoulders in a curious way.

Not waiting for a verbal reply, Professor Dumbledore plunged on with, “To be here, in your dream, as we suppose, there must be some reason. That reason, I would conjecturally say is to do with what you can’t remember. Is there anything more you can remember?”

Harry struggled and came up empty handed.

“Not to worry. Let’s step back a little bit and tell me about the journey to the play site. For example who was with you?”

Harry brightened up and started from the formal declaration of his intent to marry Ginny and the start of Harveture. Harry talked free and easy about the Forbidden Forest and how he started off in the wrong clothes. He than mentioned how Ginny saved him; and the fact that Hagrid was with them. Then Harry started telling Professor Dumbledore about the trail and various odds and ends.

While Harry was chatting away, Professor Dumbledore was going down memory lane. He was remembering his own Harveture.

Coming back to the present Professor Dumbledore said, “The car bit intrigues me. What else did Mr. Weasley say about his rogue car?”

Harry repeated as much as he could about the Ford Anglia. Which, in the big scheme of things, was not much?

When Harry got to the play bit Professor Dumbledore looked sky ward and said, “So typical of the forest folk, always a little bit late for the action and always a little bit early to take credit. And yes, they do love their operatic historical means of telling grand tales of daring deeds of today and long ago. Your final encounter with Lord Voldemort would definitely fall into that category. Coupled with the fact you would be in the audience would make this rendition one that would be talked about down through the ages.

Trying to help Harry remember, Professor Dumbledore continued with, “Let’s paint a picture, shall we? There is Hagrid, Mr. Weasley and your good self, sitting in the audience, facing the stage. Do the lights go dim?”

“Well, yes!” Exclaimed Harry, “I must have missed that point.”

“That’s fine. Let’s just work on it a little at a time. Back to the picture. You three are sitting there. And I would suppose there were others all around you. This was a play in your honor. Maybe, even, a full house?”

Harry’s face scrunched up in concentration. “I think so. I can’t see too well because the lights went dim.”

“I mean, just before the lights went dim, were there others in the audience?”

At that, Harry stood up, stood on the top of the park bench then stood on top of the wall. He closed his eyes, stretched out his right arm with hand open and started to search for that elusive something. Professor Dumbledore nodded in approval. Finally, his pupil was on the right track. After a few minutes Harry pulled out his wand and started moving about. He was painting the picture Professor Dumbledore was talking about. Quickly the picture came to life. Bit’s here and there, and slowly the other items fell into place. It was a bit of magic Harry didn’t know was in him.

“Excellent Harry, excellent. I knew you could do it.”

Slowly the picture formed from his memory, the memory that was being elusive. With every movement of his wand the painting expanded, gained texture and quality. Once complete to the best of his recollection, Harry jumped down and spun the picture about so both of them could study the layout.

“Oh look, there you are, front and center,” Professor Dumbledore said quite gleefully. “That girl you are sitting next is very pretty.” Harry went bright red. “There’s Hagrid and behind is Mr. Weasley. I suppose they are all dressed up for the big night.”

“I suppose so. But no one told me about it.”

“They didn’t?”

“No.”

Looking puzzled, Professor Dumbledore said quietly to himself, “I wonder why?”

Then Harry asked, “Does the name Bo Dudley mean anything to you?”

“Sadly no,” Then Professor Dumbledore asked gently. “Is it important?”

 “How about Swan Lake?”

“The ballet?”

“I guess.”

“Sadly I never had the opportunity to attend. I understand it is very good… Have you seen it?

“Once on TV.”

“And was it good?”

“Not really. All dancing and no talking.”

“Ah, yes, difficult that.” Letting it lapse for a short while to allow Harry to pick his way through his memories while reviewing the picture before going on with, “Were you with anyone in particular?”

“Besides Hagrid and Mr. Weasley?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the hard part.”

“ Okay, let’s skip over that and go to the play. How did it start?”

A light went on in Harry’s face. He took off telling how Hagrid had taken sharp scissors to the play and cut himself in to all the action parts. Hagrid rescuing Harry. Hagrid with Harry on the motor bike. Hagrid placing Harry at the door. Hagrid keeping an eye on Harry through the years. Hagrid pushing all those letters through the letterbox. Hagrid taking Harry to Diagon Alley. Hagrid and Harry at Gringotts, and Hagrid taking Harry to Hogwarts.

“My, my. I never realized how busy Hagrid was. If I knew he had that much time on his hands I would have made him deputy head a long time ago.” The look on Harry’s face needed to be answered. “Sarcasm Harry, sarcasm.”

“Oh.”

“I gather the last clear memory of the play was Hagrid taking you through the doors of Hogwarts. Correct?”

“Yes,” Harry said in a cleat tone.

“With that we can determine the time of the fateful events.”

“But you weren’t there?”

“Absolutely correct. However, I know our Hagrid pretty well and can gauge his story telling pace and come up with a pretty good estimate.”

“In a dejected voice, Harry said, “And that’s about it.”

Professor Dumbledore nodded as he quickly pulled out a scroll and pen and got calculating. It did not take him long as he knew Hagrid too well. “I would estimate you were at least fifty-five minutes into the play when the fateful event occurred.”

“Does the time really matter?”

“In the big scheme of things no, while here there is a possible yes. It all depends on you finding any more memories or not.” With that Dumbledore put the scroll and pen away.

Harry sat next to Professor Dumbledore on the bench. The two of them lapsed back into silence. Harry pondering his lost memory while Professor Dumbledore pulled out his book and picked up where he left off.

Finally, curiosity got the better of Harry and he asked, “Why are you bothering to read? I mean, what’s the point… you’re dead.”

With a snap of the book, Professor Dumbledore gave Harry a sideways look then replied with, “No matter where you are in life, gaining more knowledge and understanding is one of the greatest and noblest endeavors you can undertake. Say, for example, there are two men of equal stature. However, one gains knowledge and understanding while the other kicks his feet up and that’s the extent of his knowledge and understanding. Who has the advantage in the next world?”

“Simple, the one who learns stuff.”

“Correct Harry, the one who invests in themselves. By doing that a person can go from a bad person to a good person or from a good person to a better person. Do you see the pattern of progress? Progress depends on you and your desires. Or, you can be like the masses, hypnotized by the wide and broad way that leads to mediocrity, stagnation and being damned from the higher values of life.

“Therefore, reading is one means of gaining or getting the advantage over others.”

“Is that fair?” Harry asked. “What about school. We help each other to do better.”

“Harry, that's a very poor analogy. If I remember rightly, it was others constantly helping you. Without Miss. Granger would you have passed any exam?” Seeing Harry’s discomfort Professor Dumbledore continued with, “Sooner or later Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will get married and start raising a family of their own. They will not have the time to help you as of old. That is when you will have to decide what you are going to do. In this world there are three types of people. Those who make it happen. Those who watch it happen. And those who wondered what happened. Which one do you fall into?”

Harry sat there looking at his old mentor thinking about what he had just said. With the pause, Professor Dumbledore pulled out his book and carried on reading.

Without looking up Professor Dumbledore added, “Fair or not that is what we all agreed to in the Beginning. And that, my young friend, is why I carry on reading because I want to be worthy of the utmost prize. For you it should be the same goal.”

“And what is that?”

“Being with your wife and family in the eternities… what else is there?”

Blinking at the simpleness of Professor Dumbledore’s reply Harry knew it was true. He knew it was true because he felt it every time he was with his parents. He had started to feel it with Ginny. The family is the only thing that can stretch forward and backward collecting those who want it.

Closing his book with a snap Professor Dumbledore stood up and said, “The sands of time are running low. Time to chose, I fear.”

“Same as last time?”

“Yes Harry, same as last time, and not the same as last time. This time Miss. Weasley is in the picture. She is now part of you. Your choice will affect her as much as it affects you. Now you have to think of you and her, not you alone as last time.”

“Choice?”

“Choice and responsibility to others: all part of progression.”

Harry stood up, looked about, then said in a positive voice, “I can do this. I think I’d rather spend time with Ginny than take the easy way out and walk on.”

“Well said, Harry… well said. And, may I say, an admirable attitude. You will go far.”

Harry stood up, smiled and replied with, “Be seeing you.” Before heading out.

After Harry had left Professor Snape walked smartly along side the wall from the right. Professor Dumbledore waited for him. The two of them watched Harry disappear into the distance.

“Do you think he understood what you said to him?” Professor Snape said in his usual dry way.

“Of course not. Who at that age listens to anything said by aged ones?”


	9. St Mungo's Is the Best Place for Harry.

**May 30, 1998** **– Saturday Late evening**

 

_Did you sleep perchance to dream?_

_Dreemin you are in_ _California_ _?_

_Or dreamin a little dream of me?_

_If so, whisper a little prayer for me?_

_Monday is for Ivy,_

_Wednesday is for the family,_

_Friday is dedicated to the one I love,_

_Sunday is for church and the family._

 

A Parents’ Lament

 

The DA's apparated in various quiet locations about St Mungo’s and made their way to the abandoned looking building still carrying the name of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. Each addressed the dummy in the window and entered. They all went to the fourth floor – Spell Damage. They congregated in the waiting are. Each finding a spot to sit, stand, or mull about.

It was Katie Bell that kept watch, through the window in the door, for any action at Harry’s room.

Neville flopped down on the floor and let out several deep sighs. He was thinking hard about the past couple of days. Nothing made sense.

It was Susan Bones that broke the silence with, “Okay Neville, what’s going on? Fill us in from the beginning.”

Neville looked about. The other DA’s were looking at him and looking to him for leadership.

“I don’t have all the story, yet, but I can tell you what I know.” The DA’s moved about trying to find more comfortable locations.

Neville went back to the time he was at Hogwarts, when the two owls came flying in delivering their messages from Ginny. The story slowly unfolded, as he told the story he was peppered with questions from the other DA’s. The questions came thick and fast as he described finding Harry. Most of the questions wanted to know about the surrounding area; what else did he see; what was going on, etc., Neville replied as best he could. As he explained, he found Harry and all his thoughts centered on getting him back to safety and proper attention.

The one thing Neville did not mention was the fact that twice Harry stopped breathing and he had to perform CPR while yelling at Harry that he better not die, and if he did, he would never forgive him for his bad timing.

While the DA’s were listening to Neville’s story, Harry was lying in the room just down the corridor from the others.

Harry lay in bed covered in bandages except about his head. The doctors at St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries left it uncovered as they didn’t like what they saw.

Harry would not settled down. He was constantly thrashing about. Arms and legs going every which way which meant the bed coverings were constantly ending up on the floor. The doctors mulled about looking at this and that trying to come up with some explanation, some understanding, some reason for the state he was in.

Of all the damage it was his forehead the doctors concentrated on. For some reason the reaction between the original Voldemort scar and upstart was acting like some fermenting mass on his forehead. Bubbles of puss, wounds that split open then healed, only to open up again. The deep red colour on his forehead kept moving from place to place as if it could not find a spot to settle down.

Likewise, Harry never settled down until Ginny pushed by everyone and held his hand in hers. Her face said it all. Red eyes, flushed cheeks and a look of utmost concern for someone she loved deeply. No one wanted to get between Harry and Ginny since everyone knew about their rings binding them together.

With Ginny by his side Harry slowly settling down, the bed covers were returned to the bed and further inspections could be carried out. The doctors were going slow as this was something they had never seen before.

Someone gave Ginny a chair so she could sit there holding Harry’s hand and while she did that Harry remained sort of stable: except for his forehead.

Ginny wanted to brush his matted hair out of the way. The doctors said not to. They did not want the mass of confusion on his forehead moved any more than was necessary.

As the doctors slowly and carefully worked over Harry, Ginny began to realize just how bad he was. It seemed that under every bandage was a cut, gash, slash, furrow or a chunk missing from his body.

Despite all that, the doctors were concentrating on Harry’s forehead. The trademark lightning bolt scar had been sliced in two by a spell during the battle. It was like these two spells were battling it out to see who was supreme. The old mark or the upstart pretender.

The doctors were watching, cutting bits for closer observation and smelling when a boil burst.

 Then Ginny lent over and gave Harry a kiss. Just a small kiss, more like a quick kiss, some would say it was a simple peck on the lips. What ever it was Harry finally settled down into a relaxing sleep. The fighting scars on his forehead eased up the battle. Others would say they were retrenching for the final push. Whatever it was, Harry was finally resting properly and Ginny settled onto the chair next to Harry while the doctors fussed, poked, applied various ointments and tried certain spells.

Outside, the elevator door burst open and out streamed the entire Weasley tribe sans Ron and his father. Mrs. Weasley looked about and noted Ginny not there. Therefore, her first question was, “Where’s Ginny?”

Katie Bell replied with, “In there with Harry,” as she pointed through the window to the room beyond.

Mrs. Weasley grabbed the double doors, but they would not open to her. She shook them harder and harder out of frustration. They did not give one inch.

“Mother, may I try?” Percy said in a very calm tone for someone in his predicament. He pulled out his wand and did several opening spells, summoning spells, and three ‘get out of there’ spells. All to no avail.

That’s when Bill said, “This is St Mungo’s. This is not like breaking onto Gringots. Maybe they don’t want you in there as there is something nasty there.”

The minute Bill said that, he knew it was the wrong thing to say.

Mrs. Weasley gave her son a withering look and snapped back with, “My daughter’s in there.” Then commenced banging on the door as hard as she could.

Neville said, “It don’t work like that about here. I should know, I’ve been here the most,” Seeing he had their attention he carried on with, “These doors are special. They protect the sick as well as whole.  To get by you need to be ready to pass through… Like this.” As he said that he gently put his hand on one of the double doors and eased it open. “Now, Mrs. Weasley, if you follow me we shall go to the next door.”

In utter silence Mrs. Weasley followed Neville through the double doors, down the corridor to the room Harry was in. Mrs. Weasley looked through the window in the door and saw her daughter sitting there holding Harry’s hand. She also noted all the bandages and Harry’s forehead. That’s when she lost it. First Fred, then the anguish of not knowing where her husband was, and now wondering if Harry was going to make it overwhelmed her. She let out a long and extremely loud, “No!” and then collapsed onto the floor. The noise brought several caregivers rushing out to see what the noise was all about. Seeing Mrs. Weasley on the floor, they quickly got her onto a gurney and into a close by room. Bill and Fleur took control of his mother, and tried to calm her down. The more they tried the worse Mrs. Weasley got.

To Molly’s way of thinking, bad things happens in three’s. This was going to be the cross her family was going to carry forever.

Seeing it was getting too late, Neville chatted with Charles and Bill. They came to the general conclusion that there was nothing else they could do. That it would be best is they get some rest as the next day was shaping up to be a long one.

Neville chatted to the other DA’s and they all agreed to head back to Hogwarts for the night while leaving the Weasley’s at St. Mungo’s to keep and eye on their mother, Ginny and Harry.


	10. Ron, Hermione and Elves.

**May 31, 1998** **, Sunday**

 

 _How quick can you get to_ _Babylon_ _?_

_Going through the church, graveyard and wall?_

_To see you friends and play_

_The games we played in May,_

_so long ago?_

_If I go by candle-light it will be_

_Three and three and another three_

_Going through the church, graveyard and wall._

_To see my friends so tall_

_And play the games we played_

_In May, so long ago._

 

Old West Country

Nursery Rhyme

 

Ron and Hermione arrived at Hogwarts after a long and arduous trip back from Australia. They chose the Floo Network as the means of doing the trip. They exited the fire place of the great hall just as the first DA’s were coming down for their early morning breakfast. Once recognized, the yell went up that they were back. The excitement quickly spread up the stairs to the dormitories. Out piled the other DA’s eager to see their long lost friends.

Ron and Hermione were quickly surrounded and questions started to fly about. The hubbub got louder and louder until Ron yelled out, “Quiet! Crikey, I can’t hear myself think!” The noise quickly died down, and Ron continued with, “Boy, that’s better.” Then smiling at his fellow DA’s he added, “G’day, mates,” In a genuine Australian accent while trying to suppress his ever present Britishness. A roar of approval went up. Ron then added, “We’re back. Hermione did a bang up job on her parents. They are fine but are going to stay in Australia. Seems they like it there.”

Someone asked, “Hermione, how did you do it?”

The noise died right down as she looked carefully about the eager faces. Everyone knew why she headed down under, everyone wanted to know how she succeeded.

“I was scared, really scared to fail. Actually I froze and if it wasn’t for Ron here, I’m not sure I could have done it.” A murmur of surprise went up. To the DA’s, Hermione was the best there was. “I was scared to lose my parents. Removing memories is a difficult spell to do. Restoring and altering the memories is worse. Like everyone, I only have one set of parents. Unlike most of you, I’m an only child. If I failed, I would lose everything. With Ron’s help, I did it and had a fantastic time with my parents. When they chose to stay in Australia, I was a bit sad. Then again, the Floo Network reaches all the way down under so no big deal. I can live here and pop over to see them whenever I want. That’s the magic of being magical.”

“What’s all this hubbub here in the hall?” Professor McGonagall asked as she entered the great hall. Seeing Ron and Hermione she added, “Glad you are back. We have work to do. Sit with Padma and Parvati Patil, they can fill you in on what’s going on.” Then quickly added, “Just in case you are worried, Harry’s alive in St. Mungo’s. He should be okay… I hope.”

Ron went pail and Hermione looked shaken as the Patil girls started at the beginning and filled in the rest of the story.

After breakfast Professor McGonagall stood up behind the lectern with Neville on her right. Once settled Professor McGonagall started with, “Ladies and Gentlemen, graduates of Hogwarts and DA members. I cannot tell you to undertake this perilous task to find out what happened to Professor Potter while on his Harveture interview. All I can do is ask you to go and find out. Perilous, yes. Risky, undoubtedly. Challenging, yes. Life threatening, maybe. Despite the obvious, we need to find out what happened. We need to know whom or what attacked our own Professor Potter.

“At the moment all we know is that Mr. Weasley and Professor Potter entered the forbidden forest and then, a few days later, Neville rescued Harry from a distant monument deep in the forest. Actually, from a place that is on the edge of legends, stories, and folk tales, that very few witches or wizards have ever ventured to. That is why it is called the Forbidden Forest. Not so much to scare Hogwarts students, more to give them a healthy respect to not venturing in too far.” Then looking at George Weasley, Professor McGonagall added, “Isn’t that correct, Mr. Weasley?” Without waiting for an answer, Professor McGonagall continued with, “For some reason Mr. Weasley selected the forest as the place for the Harveture interview. An unusual setting, but one, I am sure, that was specifically selected.

“We also have it on good authority that two owls, sent by Miss. Weasley, arrived in time to see that our Professor Hagrid was also in the party.” That new bit of information caused a bit of a stir amongst the DA’s. Professor McGonagall put up her hand and carried on with, “Where Professor Hagrid fits into the picture, I can not tell as Harveture is clearly established to be only between the suitor and the young ladies father. There is no requirement for a third person. Assuming Mr. Weasley was following strict Harveture protocol, the addition of Professor Hagrid must have had some other reason. A reason that is, for the moment, unclear.

“Of all the forbidden forest locations that I am familiar with, this is not one of them. The western road and general area are well known: to a point. Then again, as we all know, the forbidden forest does not give up its secrets easily. Therefore, I must warn you to be on your toes at all times. Assume nothing. Check everything most carefully. Assume the worst, document everything and hope for the best.

“Mr. Longbottom and I have discussed, and agreed upon a plan of action. I shall stay at Hogwarts while everyone else flies to the site on brooms. Once reached the general area shall be divided into a grid for careful searching and documenting. Since we don’t know what happened I don’t know what you shall find… if anything. Therefore, careful documentation is necessary.  Since the only description is by Mr. Longbottom the grid shall center on the circle and spread out. How far out it should go depends on what you find.

“Communication shall be by owl as usual. Several Portkeys are in the process of being set up and apparation should work. With that, are there any question?” Professor McGonagall glanced about to see if any hands went up. One did, It was Dean Thomas.

Dean asked, “ How much do we know about the forbidden forest? I mean, hasn’t Hogwarts been here long enough for someone to know something?”

“A very good question Mr. Thomas. However, as you all know the main function of Hogwarts is to teach wizards and witches the necessary skills so that they can become productive members of the witch and wizard community. Over time, there has always been a limited connection to the forbidden forest. We do not use it as a teaching facility nor do we go on expeditions through it. On the other hand, we are not ignorant of its existence. If there is mutual agreement, or benefit, then we work together with the forbidden forest. Therefore, we are not uninformed of the forest, we are cognizant of it, just that we have had no plans to develop the relationship to any great depth. I also think that is how the founding four looked upon the forest.”

Dean came back with, “So, what you are saying is, we really don’t know much about the forest after all this time?”

“Astute as ever, Mr. Thomas. We know enough to satisfactorily coexist without acrimony or distrust.” Looking about Professor McGonagall continued with, “Is there any other questions?” No other hands went up. “Then I think it is time to get ready and head out.”

The DA’s all stood up and headed out to in front of the great doors of Hogwarts.

Ever since the start of their last year (1997-8) at Hogwarts, Neville became the undisputed leader of the DA’s. The mantle fell upon him since he was the most vocal and active person against the reign of Professor Snape and his henchmen. Neville planned, schemed, and carried out many daring deeds against Lord Voldemort’s men. Then when he went into hiding in the Room of Requirement and made sure only DA’s could get in and not the Carrows.

During the Battle of Hogwarts, Neville showed his true colours by being the only person willing to face Lord Voldemort, and boldly declare his freedom from Voldemorts' way of life. His valiance enabled him to pull the sward of Gryffindor from the hat, slay the snake, thus opening the way of Harry’s ultimate success. Therefore, Neville was the undisputed DA leader when Harry was away.  

“Okay, everyone ready? This here is Harry’s broom,” Neville said as he lifted up the broom. “It’s fast, really fast. So when I put the spell on it the broom will take off fast. Following is going to be tough. Some of us are on okay brooms while others are on some old slowpokes. I have put a tailing spell on Harry’s broom. That should leave a good trail for everyone to follow. Also, we have sent some spotting owls ahead to see where the broom goes and will help the really slow ones. Hopefully, we will all get there. Oh yes, one last thing, hang on to your DA coins… you might need them if you get into a spot of bother. Any questions?”

“Why not use dragons or something to get there? They are safe and can carry a load.” Someone asked.

“You are right. Only problem is keeping the dragons happy while we are poking about for who knows what, for an unknown long while, and not touching the ground.”

“What about food?” someone else asked.

“That’s better… someone thinking about food first rather than what happened to Harry. Well once we know where we are going we shall establish portkeys to get food and other bulky things there. So, brooms for searching and portkeys for other stuff.”

Looking about, Neville saw no other questions so said, “Right then, mount your brooms.”

Everyone mounted up with Neville on Harry’s broom. Strapped to his side were two spare brooms… just in case.

“On me… Three, two, one, then go!” With that, Neville put a tracer spell on the broom and zoomed off. Neville had to keep pulling back on the broom to keep the others sort of within sight. The broom was that fast and constantly trying to go faster as the distance to cover was great. The broom basically followed the eastern trail that Harry, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley had tramped along. Except Neville did not know that. All Neville knew was the exhilaration of the speed was wearing thin again. Going fast is fun, and then the fun wears off as you get tired hanging on so tightly for so long. That was when Neville realized that this broom was specially designed for high speed for short intervals: just what a seeker needs. This broom was not designed for long distance cross-country jaunts. With grim determination, and with all his aching muscles aching again, Neville hung on as best he could.

Fifteen, then thirty, forty-five and then an hour passed. Neville was sure the last trip was not as long as this one was taking. The longer he flew the more sure he was that something was wrong. Surely, it did not take over an hour getting back to Hogwarts. Neville tried to lift one hand off the broom to stretch his figures. Nothing moved. His fingers were stuck. Before panic could take hold, the broom started a slow descent beginning at the edge of the forest. The empty plane, stretching out as far as the eye could see, was breathtaking, mesmerizing and absolutely enthralling after the constant green of the forest.

The broom swept in on a large arc going round the stone circle. The whole area was rough stone devoid of any vegetation. Neville slowed up and slowly went round the stones again looking, taking it all in and trying to remember the spot where he found Harry. He didn’t have to think that hard as the broom took him right there. From his pocket Neville dropped a floating marker to mark the spot. Next he went to the center of the circle and pulled out a Christmas Tree candle. Despite its name, this was not ordinary Christmas Tree candle. This is one from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes shop. Neville dropped it dead center of the circle and quickly got out of the way. “Boom” and up when the center of the tree. “Boom” out went the top most layer of pine needle branches. “Boom” up went the second layer of pine needle branches. “Boom” up went the third layer of pine needle branches. And the “Boom’s” continued as layer upon layer of pine needle branches were added to the tree. How high the tree went Neville never found out. Even the DA’s could not say how tall it was. What ever the height was, it was good enough for the slowest of the slowest brooms to lock on to and get their passenger safely to the stone circle.

While the tree was being assembled, Neville emptied out a small package that Professor McGonagall gave him. It was the grid: only in miniature. The little red sticks floated down and then they began to grow, connect, expand and kept on growing, splitting and expanding until there was an immense one yard square grid sitting about six inches off the ground. In the north east corner of each square was a unique grid reference number.

“Wow,” was all Neville could say. He was beginning to see how wizards could get things done so quickly with the proper application of magic.

It took almost an hour between the first and last DA to arrive. No one was lost and still the Christmas Tree kept shining. Ron beamed with pride at his brother’s handiwork.

“Right then,” Neville said as he sat uncomfortably on Harry’s broom, “We’re all here and the day is young. Over there,” pointing to the marker “Is where I found Harry. He was crumpled up against that stone…”

Can we get off these brooms?” asked Katie Bell “I really need a break from all this broom sitting.” Others were nodding their heads. No one has been on brooms this long and traveled so far.

“Okay,” Lets go to the very edge of the forest. Sort of keeping the area untouched.” With that everyone headed to the forest edge. Slowly the DA’s got off their brooms and stretched out. Many had to be helped off. After all the exercise that Neville had been putting them through, broom sitting was not one of them.

“It’s the smell,” Hermione said as she lifted her head to take in the new smells. No one paid her any attention except Ron.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“It’s not a forest smell.”

Puzzled Ron had to ask, “What does a forest smell like?”

“Like a forest: silly.”

“Oh.”

“No you don’t. You don’t smell what I am smelling.”

“Then, what are you smelling?”

“Something clean and fresh. Something that does not belong in a forest.”

That was when Terry Boot said, “You are right. It is a fresh air smell.” Then Terry added, “Since no one has been here before, how do you know what belongs here? Maybe this is a clean and fresh place.”

“I see what you are saying, but no. A forest is always decaying and regrowing. Look,” Hermione said as she picked up some dirt, “Smell this.” And handed it to Angelina Johnson. “That is what a forest smells like. Now walk to the edge of the forest and take a big breath. It’s different.”

Angelina did as Hermione said. “Okay, maybe there is something different… so what?”

“It’s not ‘so what’, it should be ‘why is it here?’ What I mean is, what we are smelling is not a natural smell.”

Angelina came back with, “If it’s not a natural smell who put it here and what for?”

“That’s what we are here to find out.” Hermione replied as she started to look at the flora and fauna.”

“What are you looking at?” Ron asked quietly as Hermione walked slowly about the edge of the forest.

“I’m looking to see how different this is to our part of the forest.”

Ron gave a shrug and said, “Looks the same to me.”

“Exactly. That’s the point.”

“What point?”

“That it is the same. Same trees, same bushes, same scat, same smell, and I would expect the same centaurs.”

“You would?” Ron said in surprise as he started looking a bit more closely at the bushes to see if a centaur was lurking behind one.

“No silly. I was just saying, this is the same… except the smell is not the same.”

“Oh,” was all Ron could think of saying. He did not fully understand what Hermione was clearly saying.

That was when Hermione walked further into the forest. She carefully stepped this way and that as she looked about. After a short while or wandering, Hermione said, “Over here Ron.” When he arrived, Hermione said, “Smell now.”

Ron did and almost chocked. “What the… what’s that smell?”

Hermione moved aside a bush to reveal a decaying mass of fur. “No idea what it was. But that is a forest smell you are smelling. That is natural, what is over by the forest edge is not natural.”

“Okay, I see, I get it… now lets move away.”

As they walked back to the others Hermione continued with, “It’s like someone did a cleaning job with a bottle of ‘clean air’ to cover over what was here.”

“What was here?”

“Don’t know silly, that’s what we are here to find out.”

“Over here,” was Neville’s clear voice. Once everyone gathered around, Neville started off with, “This is the plan.” He then carried on to explain that each square must be thoroughly reviewed, catalogued, documented, and checked. Then every stone must be turned over to see what’s underneath. Just in case something is hiding down there. At each stage of the process photographs shall be taken close up and far away.”

“That’s a lot of work,” Hannah Abbott said loudly so others could hear.

To which Neville replied with, “I agree with you Hannah. Did you see anything when you came in? Any obvious clue, sign or finger pointing the way to go?” Since he received no reply Neville added, “Nor did I. That’s why we are here. There has to be something somewhere. No one is that good in such rocky conditions… and we are going to find that something. Two people don’t just vanish without leaving something behind. Remember, that’s one of the first things we learned at Hogwarts. Let’s see if they remembered that lesson.”

Then Hannah asked, “Can’t we use something like an Accio spell?”

With a sigh, Neville said, “I tried it a moment ago. The problem is, I don’t know what to ask for. Try it when you get to your square. If it works, let the others know.” Then turning to the rest, Neville added, “If you think of something, and it works, let everyone know.”

The discussion moved on to assigning specific areas to specific DA’s. Each knew this was going to be a slow and painful process as the landscape did not look very promising.

Reluctantly, the DA’s remounted their brooms and went to their designated area. That’s when the real work commenced. The area was covered with DA’s on brooms going over a one square yard area as described to them by Neville. When one square was reviewed, documented and photographed, they would move on to the next square. Progress was painfully slow and when lunch time came round every DA was happy to take a break over by the forest.

Gossiter and the other house elves from Hogwarts were there doing the cooking for the DA’s.

Gossiter was feeling badly because he was not allowed to accompany Harry during his Harveture interview. The laws and ordinances covering Harveture are very strict as to who can and cannot be there. The last time a third person was allowed in a Harveture interview was to assist a deaf, dumb and blind wizard named Pin. His full name has been lost to history as this happened back in 1303.

The afternoon was a long one as everyone continued working the squares until is was getting too dark to see properly. Neville flipped his coin to tell everyone it was time to pack it in and head back to camp. By this time the elves had set up tents and were busy preparing a scrumptious evening meal.

The food line moved slowly. At the back was Seamus Finnigan. He kept bouncing, looking to see why things were going so slowly. As he looked he muttering to himself, “Hurry up you lot, I’m starving at the back.”

Right in front of Seamus was Anthony Goldstein. Anthony turned around and said, “Seamus, you are not starving. No one is starving. You might be hungry, or having an empty stomach, but I can assure you you will never starve with house elves doing the cooking. That is why you will need at least two elves for your own house once you move out of your parents’ place.”

Seamus looked hard at Anthony and said, “I’m starving and that’s the truth. I missed the lunch break as I thought I found something.”

Anthony pinched Seamus on the arm and said, “Plenty of fat there. Not starving.”

Seamus rubbed his arm. “Owe, that hurt.”

“Good, took your mind off your stomach for a change. All I hear from you is grumble, grumble and your stomach is going rumble, rumble. Regular music box.”

“Pipe down you two,” said Hannah Abbott, who was standing in front of Anthony. “And Seamus, you are not starving. No one in our wizarding community has ever starved. You can be hungry, never starving. That’s the difference between us and muggles. We work together while muggles don’t.”

“You mean muggles actually starve?” A surprised Anthony asked.

“Come to Ireland and hear the sad tails,” Seamus said. “Starvation was all over the place. Potato famines they are called. Thousands and thousands were effected.”

“How come? What happened?” Anthony said as they shuffled along the food line.

“It is a sad story to tell. Very sad.” Seamus started the sad tail of the potatoes, useless English landowners, greed, and the will to survive.

The line kept moving along and finally all could sit down and eat. The food was up to the usual quality that the Hogwarts house elves are famed for.

Once fed and settled Neville stood up and started with, “We have covered a lot of ground today. So I would like to provide a summary so we know where we are.

“First nothing concrete has been found. We have searched the area about Harry’s last known location. Nothing, as in a very clean nothing.” He glanced over to where Hermione was eating. “The areas we have searched were also empty of anything.” Neville paused for a moment to regroup his thoughts then continued with, “Look, there were three of them and a tent. So where are the lost two and where is the tent? Nothing is adding up.

“Tomorrow we are going to have a small group start back down the trail to Hogwarts. Maybe there is something on that trail. At least there should be a better chance of something they dropped, or left behind, is still there. Out here… out here in the middle of nowhere, there seems to be a clean plate.”

“I like it here,” Luna Lovegood said in a dreamy voice. “It has a beauty all itself. Like it does not care what the forest says, this is the place for music, for romance and for dancing.” A few eyes rolled upwards as Luna waxed eloquently about their dreary location. “Father has often talked about this place. Never been here, but knew it exists. Many wanderers who have passed by this place have stopped at the Quibbler with stories of the stones and what goes on here.”

“And what is that Luna?” Someone asked: half in jest.

“Oh, you don’t know. How sad. Of course, the Quibbler has devoted pages and pages to this part of he forest. Mostly about the Quars that live in this area…”

“Quars, what’s a Quar?”

“People with wings that see all and hear all. Father says they are amazing people because of their love of music and the theatre. Highly cultured, well read, and deeply inquisitive. Father says they are over six-feel tall, long black hair, slightly tanned and stand proudly. Their weapon of choice is the bow and arrow. The bow is over six feet long. And they are amazing hunters.”

“Nothing like that about here,” Parvati Patil said as she glanced about.

“Of course not silly,” replied Luna. “We sound like a heard of elephants tramping about the place. The noise we’ve made must have driven the Quars away.”

“Of course. How silly of me.” Parvati said in a heavily sarcastic tone.

“They like the serenity of the plane rather than the covered forest. See… they shine in the light and that gives them the ability to fly long distances.”

“Like a glider?” someone asked.

Luna thought for a moment then replied with, “Well, sort of. Father said they some how build up energy on their wings that allows them to fly. On cloudy days they can’t go that far while on sunny days they can fly all day long. That is why they like Scotland with it’s long summer days.”

“So, where are they now?” Hannah Abbott asked.

“Well, according to father, since this is May, they should be up north to get more sunlight hours. Sometime about August they will begin to migrate south for the better weather.”

“Head south is it?” Hannah muttered. “Then if we wait here they will come back.”

“Oh, of course they will be back. This is their place for music and plays. They love this place.”

“Hold on a moment,” Cut in Neville. “It doesn’t matter about these Quars or not. They aren’t here to help us so why bother going on and on about them?”

“But some of them are still here,” Luna said calmly, “I saw one earlier today when I came out of the forest after lunch.”

“You serious?” Fired back Neville

While looking up into the distant, Luna replied with, “Of course I am serious. He, well I think it was a ‘he’ waved at me and took off going in that direction.” With that Lune pointed into the direction away from the forest. “That way, I think. I wasn’t paying much attention to the direction, only to his graceful movement.”

“Okay, thank you Luna. When you see another one tell someone so we can ask him about Harry and what he was doing out here.” Then turning to the others, Neville added, “Bed time. Going to be a busy day tomorrow. Start early and go long.” Looking about he asked, “Any questions?” There were none.

As they walked to the tent area Ron asked Hermione, “You ever heard of Quars?”

“What Luna described are Rota-Pisquars,” Hermione replied, “Most people use the short name of Quars. Pity really as the full name is a better description of the people.”

“So you have heard of them?”

“I thought I just said so.”

“Not in so many words.”

“Then the answer is, yes, I have heard of them as a mythological creature in ancient legends about the times before man was found on the earth. Some say they were here when dinosaurs ruled the world, while others don’t.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Since only certain people can see Thestrals, then why not? After all, we are in the forbidden forest and no one has ever ventured this far out and made it back to Hogwarts to tell the tail.”

Ron did not sleep well that night. He kept having nasty dreams of large spiders roaming the forest looking for lost Hogwarts boys with red hair.

 

 **June 1, 1998** **, Monday Morning**

 

During the night, the wind picked up. About five in the morning, the wind picked up enough to get the pan flutes going. It started as a low rumbling sound. Low enough not to he heard. High enough to disturb sleep. Soon everyone was awake in an annoyed way. Nobody was happy at losing sleep. Somebody should have provided ear plugs. Finally, someone got up and staggered off to the kitchen area to see how the elves were doing. Since someone was up and moving, others started to move which disturbed everyone else. It was an unhappy lot slowly heading in the general direction of the kitchen area.

As the wind picked up the noise increased. Finally, Hermione said, “That’s it. I’m not here to listen to that noise droning on and on. She threw on her housecoat and stormed out of her tent wand in hand. A short while later the noise stopped. Soon Hermione was back in her tent trying to find a few more minutes of rest and sleep. She found it after a short hunt.

At 5:45 am the elves rang the breakfast bell letting everyone know breakfast will be ready in fifteen minutes. The line formed quickly and started to move at the magical hour of 6 o’clock. Talk was at a minimum as nobody had a good sleep except Terry Boot who claims to be able to sleep through a bomb going off right outside his bedroom.

Michael Corner finally broke the silence of the morning with, “Neville, you ready to start?”

“Guess so,” Neville said slowly after finishing off some sausage. Then added, “Who else slept bad last night?” A general show of hands went up. “Thought so,” He added. “Guess we have a lot to learn about this place. So we better get started. For the trail, I’m sending Ron and Hermione. The rest of us back to searching the land about the pan flutes.”

Then from the back of the crowd came, “Sir, please sir, may I speak?”

Everyone turned around to look at Gossiter standing there with his hand up in the air.

Neville replied with a casual, “Sure.”

“May I offer the services of us house elves to assist in the search?” Since no one said ‘no’ Gossiter continued with, “We are expert in certain areas where wizards are not. For example, cleaning. We know where dust hides. We know where things should belong. We know how to hide things to make everything look spick and span. We have an eye for cleanliness that wizards do not have.”

Angelina Johnson looked at Katie Bell and smiled. They knew how quick and clean elves are as they needed to have their rooms cleaned several times: so as not to be caught.

Anthony Goldstein added, “Why not let them have a go. I mean, we found nothing yesterday. Maybe they will find something we missed.”

“We Didn’t miss anything,” Lee Jordan said. “We had our nose to the dirt all day long.”

Hermione quickly added, “I’m with Anthony, let them have a go. Elves are diligent in areas that wizards and witches aren’t. I think this team effort is what we need.” Gossiter beamed at Hermione. She has proven to be a good friend to all elves.

Neville looked about to see what the general feeling was. Since no one was too keen getting back to their brooms and squares, Neville said, “Okay, tell us more.”

Gossiter continued with, “Elves, wizards, and muggles are all different. We elves are privileged in certain areas that wizards and muggles are not. An eye for detail is one of our specialties. Of late we have become the chief’s of choice. No one can cook like a house elf. Like I stated, we know where things hide, we know where it is in a matter of minutes. If we can’t find it, then it’s not there.”

“Okay, so you think you can do better?”

“No, we don’t think, we know. After last night’s meal we did some looking. Just about the edges. Already we have some idea what happened. Us elves would like to do a through job and report back after evening meal, tonight.”

“What? You think you already know?” Neville said loudly in amazement. Now everyone was looking closely at Gossiter.

“I only said, we think we know. The proof is still out there. We are saying you wizards are not the best for finding the answers. I am saying elves are the best and will find the answer if it is out there. That is what I’m saying.”

“Why not?” Hermione said. She always knew elves are smart. “They can search the area while we look over the trail going back to Hogwarts.”

Since Neville or anyone else had any serious objections, the plans were changed. It pays to be flexible. Tents were packed. Plates were cleaned and the kitchen scrubbed until it shone. Once all the preparations were made, the DA’s gathered ready to go back along the east road while the elves organized themselves into searching groups.

Standing at the forest’s edge Hermione pulled out her wand and started to do some devilishly tricky spell. Thin whips of smoke came out of the tip of her want and spread out is all directions through the forest.

“What on earth is she doing?” Dean quietly asked Ron.

“Just watch… you’ll see in a moment.” Ron had seen the same spell when in Australia. It is an interesting one: if you can pull it off. Since Hermione is just about the best with spells, charms and about anything else, you can do with a wand, she could pull it off.

The thin strands of smoke whipped through the forest at a faster and faster rate. Going in all directions, round trees, through bushes and along gullies. Nothing was missed. After about four minutes shapes started to form. Starting out as a blurry outline the form became distinct as more and more smoke went to where the forms were.

After about five minutes there were three well-formed smoky statues of Harry, Mr. Weasley and Hagrid. Ron and Hermione were already walking about the smoky statues taking measurements, direction traveling, facial features and the like. Hermione called out the details while Ron was busy scratching them down into a pocket sized notebook. 

Then someone yelled, “Over here!” The group moved quickly to several well formed smoky statues. Not batting an eye, Hermione set to work on these new statues. She called out the details and Ron noted them carefully in his notebook.

Then someone else again yelled, “Over here!” The group moved to the new find. Hermione set to work as Ron noted what she said carefully in his notebook.

This happened two more times before the smoke slowly dissipated into the surrounding forest. Finally, a frazzled Hermione could stop and Ron could snap his notebook closed.

“Map, we need a map.” Hermione said aloud to Ron. Ron was already looking for an owl.

“Will this do?” Neville said as he unfolded a large cloth onto the ground. Everyone gathered round to see what it was. Once spread out Neville continued with, “I knew I was going to need help once I set off to find Harry. So I made a map by using a cartography spell that creates a map while on the move. Something I picked up from the one of the old textbooks in the Room of Requirements. Thought it would come in handy if I had to go on the run. You know, so I didn’t get lost ending up going round in circles.”

Ron gave Neville a whack on the shoulders when saying, “Brilliant, bloody brilliant Neville. Whatever will you come up with next?”

Neville blushed brightly. He was not used to all this adulation, owls, or offers of marriage since the Battle of Hogwarts. “Thanks Ron… it was nothing really. Just something I quickly put together.”

“Still, bloody brilliant. How does it work?”

“Simple cartography location spell coupled with a pen with lots of ink. As you move about the pen puts a dot on the sheet, parchment, or whatever you have chosen and, Bob’s you uncle, you get a map of where you have been.”

“But how did you get all that detail on your map?”

“What? Trees, rivers, open spaces?”

“Yeh.”

“Oh, that. You need an owl flying above you to get the whole picture. He uses a camera and then you transfers the pictures onto the sheet. Then you put the two together and bingo, a map and the course you have just taken.”

Ron turned to Hermione and muttered, “How come we didn’t do that in Australia? Would have saved us days wandering about the outback.”

Hermione smiled back then added, “Guess I don’t know everything.” Actually she knew the spell, just didn’t want to use it just then. She wanted to spend more time with Ron away from the pressures of getting back her father and mother.

“If you look closely,” Neville continued, “You can see the path I took from Hogwarts, passing over Hagrid’s cabin and going eastward along this direction…”

“Can you zoom in?” someone asked

“Like this?” Neville said as he spread his hands from the center of the map going outward.

“Damn brilliant you are,” someone said and Neville, again, went bright red.

“Look,” Someone else said, “Is that a path down there?

Neville zoomed in closer and closer. The quality of the map was absolutely superb. There was no loss of definition no matter how much zooming they did.

“No, it’s a stream.” Someone else said.

“No, I think you are right. It looks like a path.” Someone else countered.

“Hang on,” Ron said. “Let’s do this properly. Go back to where we found the smoky people and lets mark the location.”

Neville quickly obliged by going to their current location on the map and quickly added the new locations to the map.

“Now,” Ron continued with, “Lets go back down the trail a mile or two and see if we have the same smoky people.”

“Oh, I see what you are doing,” Alicia Spinnet said all excited, “Good really good.” She added as she quickly jumped up. Seeing no one else move, she added, “Come on you lot we have work to do.”

Neville smiled then added, “Right behind you. Come on you lot, lets go.” Then Neville directed the DA’s to get on their brooms, spread out and take different paths through the forest. He also wanted several to go high through the trees: Just in case and three to go slow behind the main group. Not quite a battle formation, more of a general alertness formation: just in case. This was the forbidden forest after all.

With Ron and Hermione about ten yards ahead in the point position, the DA’s moved into the forbidden forest.

After about fifteen minutes of careful traveling through the forest on their brooms, Ron said to Hermione, “It’s quiet here, isn’t it?”

“Wand Ron. Keep it ready.”

“Oh yeh,” he said as he pulled out his wand and started to move it slightly side to side. Hermione taught him that move from an old BS-G show that had a droid with a red ‘eye’ moving from side to side. Hermione could see the advantage it gave. With Ron and Hermione out in front all the DA’s moved as a unit.

After about thirty minutes Hermione whispered to Ron, “See that?” pointing at a scuffed up part of the trail. “Hagrid is out in front of the tree. You can see his large steps and every now and again you can see two smaller steps on top of his.”

“You been reading Sherlock Holmes again?”

With a coy smile she replied, “It’s elementary after all.”

“At least we are on the right track.” Replied Ron.

“Not so much this trail I’m worried about, It’s all the others. Who are they?”

At the hour mark, everyone gathered on Ron and Hermione. Hermione did her smoke spell that created the outlines. Harry, Hagrid and Mr. Weaseley were the easy ones. The others were the puzzle. Rather than stop and try to puzzle it out, they chose to collect the data and analyze it later.

In the thicker parts of the trail, it was easy to see where Harry, Mr. Weasley and Hagrid had been. Hagrid’s size meant he pushed and bent bushes, thorns, thistles and the like at a height much higher than regular people, like Harry and Mr. Weasley, could not consistently reach. The biggest give-a-way was Hagrid and his heavy-duty boots. They did have a very distinctive pattern to them.

After about three hours Neville used his DA coin to call a halt and regroup. “Okay everyone, gather round,” Neville said as the through down the large map. “The map is showing where Harry, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley have been. They seem to be sticking to the path on the east side. It’s all these other tracks that are the puzzle. They seem to be running parallel to Harry and his lot.”

“Okay bright spark, what does it mean.” Hannah Abbott said to Neville.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Don’t know… that is why we are here… to find out.”

Hannah came back with, “Let’s keep looking then. You never know what is around the next bush.”

Everyone mounted their respective brooms and took off, still in formation, going back down the trail.

The rest of the day was slow progress going back down the trail that Harry, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley had traveled. The various campsites were easy to spot as were the Centaurs who were there, shadowing the DA’s, but keeping out of range all the time. It was Ron that spotted the Centaurs, as a head would pop up out of the bushes every now and again. They were checking on Ron, Hermione and the rest of the DA’s. Seems there were more than one group interested in knowing what happened to Harry Potter.

When it was about six in the evening the map indicated they were about half way to Hogwarts. Rather than complete the journey Neville decided to head back to Pan Flutes and hear what the elves had to say about their day of searching. Since no one objected, Neville marked the map and threw down another Weasley Christmas tree to physically mark the spot they turned back at. Once done and checked, they took off on their brooms going high over the forest. Neville lead the journey back making sure everyone else could see his path through the sky.

The evening meal was a subdued affair. The DA’s had more information than they knew what to do with. The chitchat about the table was general in nature since they could not put together the information they had. Rather than waste time on something they could not understand, they pushed it aside until the end of the meal and got ready for the elf report.

Seeing it was time, Gossiter stepped forward and started with, “Grand witches and wizards. Since this morning we have been diligent in our search of the grounds about here.” To add emphasis, Gossiter waved his arm about and behind him at the barren landscape. “We have found tail-tell signs and have something to add to the story of Harry Potter and his companions. However, there are things we must discuss that I am not authorized to talk about. That is why the chief house-elf of Hogwarts has made the journey here to tell you what I can not tell.”

From the background stepped the aged and infirm chief house-elf. He had two assistants, one on each side to assist him. A chair quickly appeared for the elf to sit down on. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must apologize for not standing in such a venerable congregation of Hogwarts graduates. Sadly, time has taken its toll. Too much Troll ‘n Hell football when I was a younger elf.” The old sage pulled out a rather large handkerchief and gave a loud blast on it. Then continued with, “As young Gossiter alluded to earlier this day. These house elves are sharp, that is why I sent the best to be with you out here. They know what and where to look.

“As you know there is a lot of reticence in discussing elves ways with witches and wizards. Likewise the other way. In addition, we could include goblins, Centaurs and on and on. In that light, I shall not discuss elf means and methods, only results. Touché?”

Neville gave a slight nod in acquiescence. There was no point in assuming the high ground when you had nothing to stand on. Somewhere in the crowd, Ron quietly asked Hermione, “What’s touché?” She replied by stepping on his foot while giving him a smile. He got the message loud and clear.

“The elves inspected the square grid you set up. Impressive for witches and wizards, not the elf way. Once we did some slight adjustment, things fell onto place. Before you ask, ‘how did we know?’ we could see a tell-tail pattern that we are familiar with.

“Like I said elves ways are not your way. Elves are a proud lot, and, one day, that pride might be our downfall. Until then, let me continue. Elves are proud of the cleanliness and tidiness. A job well done is not to be praised, just completed and then move on to the next task. However, and here is the big however, elves like to sign their work. Call it pride, call it arrogance, call it what you will, elves do do it. Once you understand that fact, and you know where to look, and you know what to look for, then, ergo, we can say this entire area has been elf cleaned.

“Once said, the obvious question is, which elf or elves would do that and why. Sorry, that was two questions, not one.

“Before I answer the questions, indulge me while we go back to a sad point in elf history. As you should remember in the year 1692, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy became law. During this time there was an elf named Zorham. Tall, well educated, fastidious in speech and dress. However, his greatest ability was in public speaking. In this arena, he was outstanding. His skills were honed through days, weeks, months and years of constant practice. Legend has it that he even took acting classes to improve his presentation.

“People say Zorham burst on the scene in 1690. In reality, he had been working at his craft for many years gaining a following in the quieter part of the land. He concentrated on the more wealthy elves, those who enjoyed the leisurely, privileged life style. By flattery and cunningness, he gained favor and power by promising whatever the listener wanted to hear. And, by careful preparation, he knew what his listener wanted to hear before he said anything.

“Nothing beats careful preparation, and nobody prepared more carefully than Zorham. Flattering his listener was one thing, getting him or her to part with their galleons, to further his cause, was something else. That is why Zorham was careful to start with couples that were an older male and a younger female. Zorham found that by currying favor with the younger female, the older male would be more willing to hand over cash so Zorham could move on to the next establishment.

“While working the nether regions Zorham went largely unnoticed. Maybe unnoticed, but slowly gathering around himself likeminded elves to such an extent that his lieutenants were also branching out.

“It was while he was working on a particularly wealthy couple that he became noticed. His mistake was sloppy preparation. See, he was getting careless. He thought his “mark” was the same as all the others: lazy, greedy, and looking for a fast way to make money. His first mistake was to assume the young woman of the house was his wife. She was his youngest daughter. His spoilt youngest daughter. The daughter he doted upon. In his lavish affection, she reveled. Being attune to the sound of coins rattling about a purse the young lady quickly twigged to the game Zorham was playing.

“Seeing Zorham circling for the kill, the daughter took her father aside and explained to him the facts of life. The father went ballistic and tried to throw Zorham in to local lockup to await trial on all falsehoods told. Zorham found out about the change in the father’s attitude by one of his stooges in the employ of the father. Zorham made a fast exit just in time to see the local enforcement officials going toward the big house while he was going away from the same house. Finding out his pray had flown the coup, the father created a hue and cry for Zorham’s scalp.

“Zorham kept his head down for a while. However, his pride and arrogance kept emerging in various ways. He loved entertaining his lieutenants at lavish parties. To keep entertaining in such a style required a large establishment, well paid entertainers, and plenty of unallocated spending money. Since money kept slipping through his fingers at an alarming rate, he needed a constant supply of new income. New income took time and energy that took him away from his lieutenants at lavish parties. That was one reason he was working so hard on the old man with the young daughter.

“The old man kept up an alarming pace chasing down Zorham. With his hard-earned money, he sent out spies to enquire after Zorham to see if he could capture and bring him to justice. As noble as the idea was, the legal profession gave him a slim to thin chance of going to trial and receiving a favorable outcome since nothing actually happened, was done, stolen, or written down.

“Not listening to reason, the old man employed more people to pursue Zorham.

“With the pressure rising, Zorham concluded something had to be done with respect to the old man. After consulting with his lieutenants, Zorham proposed to eliminate the old man and deal with his daughter: which, he felt, should be an easy proposition. Once decided, Zorham and his lieutenants entered into an agreement. The agreement was a simple one. Everyone would provide an ironclad alibi for anyone else in the room. Once the pact was signed, straws were drawn and the man with the shortest straw was nominated to do carry out the deed.

“Little did Zorham know that one of his lieutenants was head over heals in love with the daughter. Once the short straw was drawn and the meeting ended, the young man sought out his love and spilled the beans. The daughter moved swiftly to intercept the man with the short straw with a long dagger. Once quickly disguised she easily intercepted the assassin, gave the right hand shake and password, and then killed him with a furious thrust of a double-sided knife.  The assassin dropped dead without uttering a word. Once the imminent problem had been dealt with, the daughter rushed to her father and explained the facts of life to an increasing distraught father. Once she had concluded the story, the father gathered his men together for a frontal attack on the location Zorham was known to frequent.

“Seeing his man had not returned, Zorham became worried his plan had gone awry. Keeping a close eye out the windows he easily saw the gathering lights in the distance heading his way. Carefully, so as not to disturb his fun loving lieutenants, Zorham exited the large house by the side door and rode away to a safe location where he knew he would be welcomed as a returning hero.

“Of course, Zorham claimed he was the victim of an elaborate and vindictive attack on his good character. Rather than face his detractors he retreated back to the fringe areas. From there he forayed out to targeted wealthy “marks.” These unlucky elves were of the gullible type, prone to look for quick and easy means of making money, rather than an honest day’s work.

“Zorham was diligent in his work as he could see his reputation was slowly spreading. As his reach grew stronger, more questions were coming his way. Rather than wait to be plucked clean, he made a strategic move to take his most ardent followers and move. The place he chose was the Land of Desolation. His move was so rapid that the other elves didn’t know it had happened until it was too late. Yes, other elves tried tracking Zorham and his lot. Zorham knew it would happen so he put every spell he knew on their trail to make tracking virtually impossible. Virtually, not totally impossible. A group of elder elves, skilled trackers every one of them, did not turn back. They kept on going.

“These elder elves had a few tricks up their sleeve and kept pushing on. Of the group, only one returned. He was the rear point. What happened to the others no one knows. All the elves knew it was better to get word back rather than face total annihilation. We suspect Zorham was expecting someone to come looking and planned accordingly.

“The Land of Desolation is as the name suggests is very inhospitable. Flat, rocky with minimal vegetation of any kind. Every elf knows about it from ancient texts. Some great battle occurred there umpteen years before Zorham’s time and people fled there only to be chased out by venomous snakes.

“The elf that returned gave us a good report describing his location before e returned home. After that point we only know what was planned, not its outcome. No one bothered going there as to do so was a major undertaking. Ever since then us elves that have abided with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy act and have been keeping an eye on the desendents of Zorham and his lot. And before you ask, yes, that means we have been keeping an eye on them lot for the past several hundred years. Since they have not accepted the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy we have felt that people like that needed to be spied upon.

“The split between us and them caused a huge upheaval in the elf world. Families broken up, split apart, people not talking to others, and other sorts of recrimination and vial accusations. Needless to say, the wound is still very raw because over the years we have seen disenchanted elves leaving perfectly respectable families and head out into the wilderness, chasing a dream of freedom and the easy life. Some never make it. We find their remains along the way. Others make it and return with tails that would make your blood boil. And there are those who stay, never to be heard of again.

“Because of our common ancestry, skills of yore are amongst both groups. One such skill is cleanliness. Elves have prided themselves on being a neat and tidy group. That is why we are happy in the service of wizards. A symbiotic relationship that has benefited both sides.

“By looking at the cleanliness of the site we can categorically say it is an elf job. Sadly we can also say it was carried out by elves that are from the Zorham tribe. They have developed down different lines from us elves that are associated with wizards. From close inspection we can see the differences. The prime one being cleaning materials.

“While inspecting the site we concluded the elves left in the general direction of what we are calling the Land of Desolation. They left in single file carrying substantial burdens. We also conclude that there were others on the high ground surrounding the amphitheatre. We can tell that by a myriad of small things that add up to different people.

“The way we read the situation is this. A play was going on and then the attendees were disturbed most violently. Many died as the incoming spells was far greater than outgoing spells. Once the attack was over then the elves came in and cleaned up the mess. Once accomplished, the elves left leaving the site as you see it now.”

Once the old elf reached the end of his story there was stunned silence. “Blimey,” Ron said. “Hogwarts never taught that in history class.”

“Not necessary as it is elf and not wizard history.” The old elf replied, “I am sharing this with you so you will understand that there is more to the world than only the wizarding community and the Ministry of Magic. You need to know this because you have friends who we know nothing about. From our survey, we cannot tell who, if any, survived. To find out is going to take the combined efforts of us elves and you wizards. A joint exploratory team has not been seen in many hundred years. Definitely before the Ministry of Magic was formed. And we know how challenging it is to get anything through that lot. The longer we stand about, the other elves are traveling further and further away from this location. Or, they may be too far already. This is the forbidden forest: and the forbidden forest does not give up its secrets lightly.”

Neville ran his hands through his hair as he was thinking hard. This was big, really big. This is going to take some serious thought. Going off into the unknown, chasing elves that are skilled in not being seen or tracked is not for the faint hearted.

On the one hand there was Hagrid and Mr. Weasley. On the other hand there was Harry. Once Harry was better he could fill in all the missing stuff. Doing so might jeopardize Hagred and Mr. Weasley. However, if Hagred and Mr. Weasley are dead, then they could take their time getting an expedition ready and out.

Ron was quick off the mark with, “Go after Hagred and my father. That’s the best approach.”

George Weasley quickly added, “I’m with you brother.”

Hermione said, “If you two are going then I better go along. You are going to need someone with brains to keep you out of trouble.” The two boys grinned at each other. Their grins were hiding a deep trepidation each was feeling at this precise moment. It has always been their father looking after them, now it was the other way.

The old elf said, “If you go now I can assign Alowishus Bonaventure to you. He is the best tracker we have. Over the years he has been assigned to keep an eye on the descendents of Zorham. If anyone knows the area it is ‘Al,’ as he likes to be called. Now, if you go now we shall stay ahead of the Ministry and their meddling. If we wait, the Ministry will want to form a committee to review their options. Any review will mean the element of speed will be lost.”

Suddenly Bill, Charlie and Percy apparated right beside their two brothers.

Bill said, “Are we off then?”

Percy added, “The Ministry is getting interested in all this goings on. Better get going before they start medaling.”

That’s when Charlie flatly said, “Time to go and find dad.”

Al the elf said, “Then lets go.” He unrolled a flying carpet big enough for all to sit on. Attached to the rear of the carpet were their brooms. Once all aboard, Al said to those remaining, “Be seeing you.” And with that, the carpet gently rose and eased off into the direction Al wanted.

Neville looked about. Everyone was stunned at the speed of the decision. Then again, it was not their father at risk. “Okay then, lets pack up and head back to St Mungo’s and see how Harry is doing. Also might need more practicing at Hogwarts before this is all over.”

Quickly the old house elf interjected with, “Before you we go, may I say one more thing?”

Stopping in mid stride, Neville said, “Of course you can.”

“Then we need to address the others traveling through the forest. I would like to hazard a guess.

“After the Battle of Hogwarts the battle site became an immediate attraction. Same when Harry Potter survived the attack by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. His destroyed home became a must-see on every Wizard tour of famous wizard locations. Us elves have seen this first hand as we are continuously getting people knocking on the back door asking for a bite to eat. Typical tourists coming out to look about but not bringing enough food thinking the can buy some at the battle site. Since this is Hogwarts, we don’t allow hawkers to set up food tents about the grounds. We do have pride in our area. Don’t want riff-raff moving in. Which means we get people at the back door or they have to go to Hogsmeade.

“Therefore, we feel the other travelers are parties returning home from a site-seeing tour of the battle site.”

Neville was not feeling too happy about what the old elf said, so he asked, “Is this typical?”

“Sadly yes. Witches, wizards, elves, Sontars, Gimlocks, and a host of others. Not so much Goblins nor Centaurs, they like to keep themselves to themselves. Tour conductors are in short supply right now as the Battle of Hogwarts is not too well understood. Yes, we know what happened, we don’t know all the background stories people like to hear.”

Neville was not feeling too well. Being told that his actions are now going to be trivialized to a bunch of ice cream eating tourists is hard to swallow.

Rather than waiting for more bad news, Neville said in a hard tone, “Come on, lets get going. Hogwarts first and then on to St Mungo’s to see how Harry is doing.”

* * * * * *

 

Flying on a carpet is fun for a short while. Trying to sit there, cross-legged, keeping your back straight, gets old pretty fast. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione had become accustomed to rough means of transportation, not so Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George. They were struggling to sit upright against the wind. Eventually the boys joined Ron and Hermione lying down on the carpet.

“Okay,” Bill said in a loud voice to get everyone’s attention, “What’s the plan?”

From the front of the carpet came Al’s slow voice saying, “The plan’s up here, not back there.”

“Sorry,” Hermione said for everyone.

That’s when Al got up from his low-slung wicker chair and joined the Weasley’s and one Hermione.

“Didn’t bring chairs I see. Humm, you lot are a bit green I guess. All broom and no carpeting. Or you’d be like other witches, buy a good carpet and then throw something heavy on it so it can’t move. Sorta waste of a good flying carpet to me. Could’a got a cheep muggle Axminster if that is all you are going to do.”

“And the plan is?” Bill asked.

“Ah, yes, the plan,” Said Al as he pulled out a long stemmed pipe and began to puff on it. The pipe was a new model with a built in automatic flame. “We are heading toward our guards dotted about the Land of Desolation. We have some on duty all the time. You know, just in case.”

“We heard that, so why are you worried about?”

“We don’t know. Rather than be caught unawares like, just to be on the safe side.”

“Has anything ever happened?” Charlie asked.

“Oh, a couple of things, a couple hundred years ago.”

“And what happened then?”

“Can’t rightly remember. When we got to our destination, we can read the report log. Still there, still being kept up to date.”

“And when will we be there?” Hermione asked.

“Oh, in a short while.”

With that Al walked back to his wicker chair, carried on puffing away while the carpet went on and on across abject desolation. Or that was how it looked from a fast moving carpet. Only once and a while did someone catch a passing glimpse of something man made. Well they thought it was man made.

To kill time Hermione pulled out an old book she picked up in Australia, titled, _Aboriginal Magic in an Uncertain World_. She found the relationship between the interloper white man and the Aboriginals disturbing.

It was a while later that Al yelled out, “Descending.” Then the carpet took a turn downward. It was rather gradual and when they did touch down, it was extremely smooth. Once off, Al snapped his fingers and the carpet wrapped itself up and disappeared. “Only a short march to one of our outstations. Single file if you please. Hermione second to last with Ron at the rear. Ron, keep looking behind… just in case things have changed.”

“Hay brother,” George said, “I’ll take the back as I have more eyes than you have.” With that he slipped on a hat with several sets of eyes dangling about. “Got the idea from an Australian hat.” With that, Ron moved in front of Hermione and George went at the back.

“Okay, let’s go. And keep the chatter way down.”

“Okay Al,” they all said in unison.

Al spun about, gave them a great big cheesy grin then waved them on as he took off heading further away from home and safety.

It was mid afternoon when they took off into the unknown. The single file bit was okay so long as you are instep with the person in front of you. The march was longer than what was expected. Everyone, except Al thought it would be round the bush, up the rocks and there would be the guard stations. Not so. They touched down well out of the way so no one could see them approaching the area.

After a couple hours of constant marching, Al called a halt and said, “Time for a snack.” With that he unfolded a red and white gingham tablecloth and spread it on the ground. From a deep pouch he produced a venerable feast of Cornish pasties, salad, rolls with butter and apple turnovers. “Just a slight snack to help us on our way,” was his light comment.

Bill answered with, “If this is a snack, I’d hate to see what a full blown meal is like.”

“Much better than this,” Was Al’s serious reply.

 As they munched away Hermione asked Al, “How long have you been coming out here?”

“Oh, I’ve been taking my turn for an awful long time. Part of my responsibility of being an elf. Been coming for a long time and never seen a thing.”

“Never?” said George

“Never actually seen a thing. Heard lots of things, just never seen what’s making the noise. Usually it gets noisy at night. Could be local animals, could be something passing us by. Just never seen a thing.”

Ron looked at Hermione and Hermione smiled back at Ron. Ron was not a noisy nighttime person.

Percy chimed in with, “Never set any traps?”

“Not what we are for. Our elf job is to be here and record what goes on. If we see elf movements then we report it fast. We are not here to fuss over everything that goes bump in the night.” When Al said, ‘bump in the night’, Ron gave Hermione a worried look. Ron is not a ‘bump in the night’ person.

“We still have a way to go. First we have to skirt the Waters of Sebus before going through the land northward and getting to our destination.”

Charlie’s head jerked up and he said, “Did you say the Waters of Sebus?”

“I did and we are not camping there.”

Hermione whispered to Ron, “Selkies.”

“So, it’s real.” Charlie added in an excited voice. “I always thought it was a story, not real.”

“Oh, it’s real, alright. That’s why we don’t camp there. Since I’m the only elf here, it is my job to deliver you lot to the Land of Desolation not to go swooning off to the Waters of Sebus.”

Bill joined in with, “Let it alone brother, there are plenty fish in the water back home.”

“Not Selkies…”

“No, not Selkies, but witches who know our ways and would be perfectly happy settling in Hobbiton or some such place.”

“Is there a problem?” Al asked.

“No,” Bill said as he put his arm about his younger brother’s shoulders. “Charlie here grew up on Selkie stories. For some reason they sent him off to sleep better than another book. And now you say they are here.” The look Bill gave Al said it all. They were going to have problems with Charlie.

“Then we better get moving. Single file as before. I suggest we pick up the pace a bit. Just a pity we can’t use our brooms; too close and easy to see. With that Al set off at a good pace for someone so small.

According to legend, the waters of Sebus are the ancestral home of the Selkies. This is where they were first found so this is their home, the place they feel safest at. A place far from any prying eyes and itchy fingers. All that was lost on Charlie. All he could remember was the beautiful sketches of the Selkies. Their long, lush hair; high cheek bones; flattering eyelashes; large deep blue eyes; and a figure to die for. Even though the sketches were created by Joyful Bluebonnet, Charlie accepted the pictures as a fact. There was nothing his parents could say that would ever persuade him the sketches were created by a mere Witch.”

Al gave Charlie a close inspection to see if there was anything deficient about the boy. Accepting Selkies is one thing, being ga-ga over Selkies is something else. No elf has ever been besotted over Selkies… yet.. This was new territory and one that Al was not well equipped to handle.

The waters of Sebus are fed from a deep underground spring. The depth made the water light blue at the edge, then got darker and darker the closer and closer you got to the central deep parts. The black color of the deepest part was a black rarely seen by witch, wizard or elf. It was a mesmerizing blackness that pulled you toward the deeper parts. That pull made the Selkies so beguiling.

Al knew they had to pass the waters, there was no other way. Rather than cut it close, he gave the waters a wider birth than usual. He blazed a new trail through the surrounding lands to keep temptation away from the sad boy Charlie. Despite the circular route, there was no hiding the waters as they were easy to see as they climbed up and over a key ridge. Charlie stopped, turned, gazed longingly and let out a huge sigh. He took one step and then stopped dead. He quickly lifted a hand to shield his eyes as he stared hard at the waters. “Look!” he yelled. “Look there!” he said as he raised his arm pointing off towards the waters. “I see movement. Look at the water. It is moving!”

“Of course it is moving,” Al said in a dead pan voice. He was getting tired. “The wind has picked up. Storm tonight.”

“No!” Charlie said in an adamant tone. “I saw something else.”

“Like what?” Hermione asking as she too peered out over the lake.

“Don’t know. Happened so quickly. Like, suddenly there and then gone. But I did see something.”

No one doubted Charlie. Just that they had to get shelter soon and light was going.

“Okay, you saw something,” Al said in a tired voice. “Good. Can’t stop to investigate. We still have to get there by nightfall. And that means we have to push on.” Al looked at his troop and realized they too were getting tired. This close to the demarcation line meant anything besides walking was too risky. Just had to keep pressing on. “Not far now,” Al lied. He knew there would be some payment or other for that lie, but it got the effect he was after. The troupes perked up and he was back at a good pace leaving the waters of Sebus behind.

As the group marched on it was easy to see why this area was called the Land of Desolation. The going was either up or down: nothing was level. No grass, plenty of short and tall plants with very long thorns. Thorns that easily pierced their clothes. To compound their difficulties, the rocks became more and more crumbly. Which made clambering over the rocks challenging.

They marched on is silence and covered the last seven miles in total silence. There really was no point in talking as it was a waste of energy. The end of the path disappeared up a sharp rise. A sharp rocky rise. Between the rocks, that there was a cut that led back to a narrow door that entered into the forward elf observation outpost.

At this remote station were two other elves, Hermustus and Anti-Ephinias. It was their job to look, watch, observe and record anything they saw. Their report would, one day, join all the other reports that recorded absolutely nothing.

Despite being elves at the outpost, they knew where Al and his friends were and had a small meal ready.

Ron flopped into a chair. Looking up he saw a haggard Hermione. He quickly jumped up to allow Hermione the seat. “Good move bro,” George said. “Give her a back rub and she will like you again.” Not saying a word, Ron started to massage Hermione’s shoulders. She needed it like everyone else did.

Finally, Bill said, “If that is short, I’d hate to see what a long tramp is like.”

Ron was not interested in the length of the journey; he was interested in the rabbit warren they seemed to enter. “What is this place?”

“Our forward most observation point. Built about twenty or thirty years ago. There used to be one further out, but it was felt to be unsafe and we retreated to this local.”

“Unsafe?” Ron quickly asked as he stopped working on Hermione’s shoulders.

“Felt to be unsafe. Not proven to be unsafe. There is a difference you see.”

“Not really.”

“Perception is the difference.” Hermione said as she tapped her shoulders for Ron to realize he was slacking off.

“Correct. It was perceived to be unsafe.”

“And where exactly is this abandoned forward place?” Hermione asked.

“Humm, about twenty miles further out.”

“That’s some distance away.”

“And very much on its own.”

“Did you see any tracks as we made our way in?”

“No. That’s a tomorrow activity. Right now it is time to unpack, grab a fast bite and hit the sack. Boys on the left and girls on the right. Sorry Hermione, you are on your own for a few days before a group of female elves arrive for their tour of duty.” Al gave a quick glance about then added, “Every one helps out in the elf world.”

Everyone tossed their bags into their rooms and joined the elves for a good snack. Actually, the snack had to be replenished twice as the boys were a bit more than peckish.

As the boys shuffled off, Al grabbed Bill and quickly said, “Keep an eye on him,” nodding towards Charlie. “He has it bad.” All Bill could do was nod in agreement. Everyone was bone tired from the long day. Sleep came quickly for everyone, everyone that is except Charlie. He had it bad.


	11. St Mungo's and the DA's

**June 1, 1998** **Monday Evening**

 

_“Dirty looking rascals,_

_but I suppose every one has_

_some little immortal spark_

_concealed about him._

Holmes to Watson While waiting for the _Aurora_.

Neville stopped at Hogwarts while the others carried on to St. Mungo’s and get the latest on Harry. Neville was disturbed at what he had learned from the old house elf and the fact that the battleground was now a tourist trap. He walked through the familiar corridors of Hogwarts to Professor McGonagall’s office door. Just as he was about to knock on the door, Professor McGonagall’s clear voice came from behind. “And what can I do for you Mr. Longbottom?”

Neville was still uncomfortable being so formally addressed. The change in address came about because he had moved from a Hogwarts student to a Hogwarts graduate.

Softly he asked, “Do you have a moment Professor McGonagall?”

“Enter and let’s sit down and discuss what is concerning you.” Once sat, Professor McGonagall sipped her cup of tea while Neville gathered his thoughts.

“It’s like this. The Battle of Hogwarts is over. Done… finished… clean-up just about complete. So why is it a tourist attraction? Why are people coming here to look at nothing?”

“That is, if I may be so bold, a very simple question that will receive a very complex answer. I think Windwood Reade has something to say when he remarked that, while the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty. You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do, but you can say with precision what an average number will be up to. Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant. So says the statistician.

“I can say with certainty that people will come. Wizards visit wizard battlefields. Muggles visit Muggle battlefields. Elves and goblins do the same. And I dare say others do it also.

“Individually why they come is that insoluble puzzle. In the aggregate, they do and will come. We cannot stop it.

“One person might have a difficulty verbalizing why he or she wants to walk over a battlefield of so long ago. Walking through verdant grass where once was a mass of confusion. Or listening to bird’s sing where men screamed their last breath. Or walk in tall forests which where once mud and matchsticks.

“Rather than having disorganization it is better to get organized and make everyone feel at home.

“While it is very simple to arrange a tour of such sites, what is always needed is a skilled storyteller who paints a picture of the gore and finality of it all. Right now we are lacking in that department. For our battle, the ministry is training several as we speak. They should be here for the next school year.

Seeing Neville’s long face, Professor McGonagall added, “Sadly Mr. Longbottom, wizards and witches have not progressed uniformly on all fronts.

“So let us bring the topic back here, to Hogwarts. Human nature, fickle as it is, is not a Hogwarts subject. Maybe it should… alas, at the moment it is not.

“So, we should ask the question why come here? What is so interesting about wandering about a battle field that is devoid of any mess, decaying bodies, anger and hatred? And, in the case of this battle, the final curse caused nothing more than a thump as Lord Voldemort keeled over.

“Curiosity, morbid curiosity, is one thought. Paying respect to a fallen family member is another. Battle strategy, is another…”

“Battle strategy?” Blurted out Neville. “There was no battle strategy!”

“Au contraire, there was and will be studied by Durmstrang in the upcoming term. They are interested in how we lasted as long as we did against a far superior dark arts master. They do lean towards the dark arts that will get them nowhere in the scheme of things.”

“Are you saying you are stringing them along?”

“Of course we are. All’s fair in love and war. Then again, we did do a jolly good job buying Professor Potter time. So, overall, the stratagem worked. The key point to the stratagem is knowing what was the goal of the strategy.”

“But I don’t see why?”

“Then I must ask why you keep coming back to Hogwarts? There are other facilities you could use, but choose not to. You choose this place to come, use and stay at even though you have graduated and have a place you can call home.” After a short pause, Professor McGonagall continued with, “Since nothing is going on here, then why not use the facilities. Likewise, visitors to the Hogwarts grounds are enjoying the facilities and are respectful. And, if I may add, paying their respects to Professor Dumbledore. I am beginning to wonder if he had  the foresight to predict his tomb would receive so many visitors and the petition to move his remains to the Ministry of Magic building is growing.”

“You have to be kidding!”

“Sadly, I am not. The power of the public is a fickle thing. If it is with you, you can accomplish anything. If it’s against you, as it was many times for Professor Dumbledore, progress is dammed and the push backwards begins without an end in sight.

“On the balance of things, and after consulting with the Ministry, the general consensus is to let people come and walk the grounds. In fact, I have been out and meeting several of the families. Most seem to be here paying respects to the fallen… on both sides. To lose a loved one is a terrible thing no matter what side you view as correct. However, I am happy to say the flag that was erected by some of the first years is still flying.”

“What flag is that?” Neville asked. He was somewhat perturbed that while being inside Hogwarts, obviously he was missing what was going on outside!

“If I may hazard a guess, I would say it is a sheet off an unoccupied bed upon which is written. ‘In memory of our God, our religion, and freedom, and our peace, our wives, and our children.’ Maybe a little melodramatic, but I can support the sentiments as they attack the very foundation of Lord Voldemort and his credo. Oh yes, in the bottom corner of the flag is the deathly hallows symbol. I’m sure we shall get plenty comments once the Durmstrang contingency start visiting. They are a rather touchy lot.”

Seeing the steam running out of Neville, Professor McGonagall asked, “And what of the expedition to find Mr. Weasley. That is a bit of a surprise.” The look of surprise on Neville’s face said it all. Professor McGonagall countered with, “Do you think I sit in this office dawdling about? There are ways to know what is going on in the nether parts of the world.”

“But we were a long way from here… How did you…”

“Very simple, once you know how. Cast your mind back to the very first day you walked into Hogwarts. A small boy in a very large establishment. A very small boy very uncertain about his future. Now look at you. Jumping about the place, taking on Lord Voldemort, whatever next! Could you see today from your first day? Of course not. Now let us project into the future. If you could keep on progressing at the same rate as you have been doing, what lofty abilities you could gain, what skills could you attain, what purls of wisdom you could proclaim. That is why I have skills that you do not have… yet.” Then with a twinkle on her eye, Professor McGonagall added, “One day you will.”

“So, you know about the Weasley boys and Hermione taking off like that?”

“All of it. I think their success is enhanced by the inclusion of Miss Granger. She has the ability to keep those of boys in line.”

“So, you know where they are going?”

“Only through stories from long ago. Stories my grandparents passed down. Seems some distant ancestor of mine made it to the waters of Sebus and was seduced to stay with the selkies. Was he truly seduced or chose to stay has been a matter of family conjecture for many years. Whatever it was, he chose to stay. He came home once to tidy up his affairs, and then went back. Maybe I have a relative somewhere out there. A fanciful thought, don’t you think?”

“So, you think they will find Mr. Weasley?

“I am not sure. I think this division is not good as it dilutes our strength. However, they did go with Weasley reinforcements. On balance they have a high degree of success, so long as this is not a trap.”

“A trap?” an excited Neville said rather too quickly.

“Of course, a trap. You keep forgetting where they are and going. Witches and wizards do not venture that far. Uncharted territory: despite your fanciful maps.”

Neville quickly touched his left pocket. It was empty. He was glad he gave his maps to Hermione before Al and the others took off on their adventure. He felt her need was greater. That was when he realized Professor McGonagall’s understanding of the trip had some limitations.

She continued with, “There are elements out there we may not be on good terms with. There was a time when witches and wizards thought they were superior in every way and tried to impose that superiority on other magical people. That odious approach caused bad feelings that really have not been smoothed over.” With a sigh, Professor McGonagall continued with, “There are certain people in the Ministry who feel we should apologize and make amends. Other people in the Ministry feel we did not press hard enough to dictate our ways hard enough. With such leadership, real progress is stilted at best. Hence, if you travel far, be careful where you put your foot.”

Seeing Neville with a thoughtful look on his face, Professor McGonagall asked, “Is there anything else pressing that requires immediate action? I do have rather a lot to accomplish before school starts. While you, I understand, are doing everything to kill yourself here at Hogwarts by leaping over tall buildings in a single bound…”

“Ah, not quite. Leaping off the seventh floor and landing safely is what I’m up to.”

“Then, obviously leaping over Hogwarts will be next. I managed it in my third year. Which meant you are behind me by a several years. Which means you better get going and have it done before school starts.” With a twinkle in her eye, Professor McGonagall concluded with, “Be off with you and enjoy your remaining days at Hogwarts.”

A grinning Neville stood up put the chair back to where he found it and exited the room. Neville knew, like the others, under that gruff teacher’s exterior, there was a lady with a heart of gold.

Neville headed up the stairs and into the library. He was on a new quest. A quest to find the spell that would allow him to leap over Hogwarts in a single bound. This, he was thinking, could be fun!

Once Neville left the room, Professor McGonagall walked over to her closet, opened the door and retrieved the small owl from its perch. She absentmindedly scratched its head. Once her note was complete she secured it to the owl and the little bird zoomed off to the far reaches of the forbidden forest.

“I like him,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“Your back.” Professor McGonagall said as turned around to see Professor Dumbledore settling down in his own painting.

“More like passing through. The Ministry would like to discuss a point or two about some long lost fact. Or something like that. It does get tiresome dealing with non-Hogwarts types. I don’t know them nor can find out anything about them.” Then in an expansive tone and with the wave of his arm to the other paintings, Professor Dumbledore added, “Here we can find out something about every pupil who has ever walked through the doors of this repository of knowledge.”

“Bit on the grand stuffy side, aren’t we?”

“Not at all. Not at all. Knowledge and sound understanding will always win over stupidity and greed.” Pointing to the door that Neville exited Professor Dumbledore continued with, “That young man has a good future. He has a base of sound understanding and knowledge. He also knows where all the good books are up in the library. And, if I may be so bold, he has no greed in his soul. Indeed I may say, a fine young man. I may even stretch it to infer he is one of the finest ever to leave Hogwarts.”

“And his future?”

“The general consensus amongst us past headmasters is, he will have a fine future.”

 

* * * *

 

At St. Mungo’s the rest of the DA’s had gathered. Taking up station at the door was Cho Chang. She still had a soft spot for Harry.

Seamus Finnigan had a run in with an over eager Daily Prophet reporter. He wanted the inside scoop on Harry Potter and why he was so close to death. It wasn’t until Luna Lovegood stood up and started to question his writing credentials that the reporter backed out of the waiting area.

“What does that squirt know about reporting? I’ve been doing it ever since I turned four and wrote my first bit for the Quibbler.” Eyes rolled up as the other DA’s discounted Luna and her sayings. “It was a nice piece on cooking Gumducks. I started at the beginning and went through it all. Most of the owls said I should not go into such gory detail on cutting the poor animal up. I should have started with chopped meat of some kind. I thought about it and decided they were wrong. Not everyone knows how to catch and skin a Gumduck.” Looking about the other DA’s she added, “Well, does anyone else know what to do?” No hand went up. “See, that’s why I added in the gory bit at the beginning. That’s when my father said to me, ‘If it bleeds, don’t lead: take it out as no one is interested in that kind of journalism.

“I did that until I was about ten and then I finally got out and became a roving reporter. I loved nothing better than roving about and reporting. There are so many interesting people in one hedgerow. That’s the type of work where I honed my skills.”

“In the hedgerows?” One of the DA’s said.

“Of course. You never know what will turn up in a hedgerow. I mean, there was one day that Asmodeus walked by…”

“I thought that was a myth?” Someone said.

“No, the cat.”

“The cat, what cat are you on about?”

“The queen of Egyptian cats. The one and only Asmodeus. That is where the myths all start from. I mean it stands to reason that there has to be a beginning and that beginning is Egypt. That’s why I’ve change plans and going with Seamus on his trip about Europe. I mean to say, stopping off at Egypt should be fun.”

“Luna, we haven’t included Egypt,” Seamus Android said in a tired and repetitious tone, “I said we could consider it as a possible stop. We are supposed to be doing a literary tour, not a dog and cat show.”

Luna smiled at Seamus and replied with, “That’s okay. I know you mean well, but I think it would be a good stopping point. Like, not all roads lead to Rome, many go through Egypt. So many special places to visit. That is while you read the hieroglyphics and runes. Isn’t that literary enough for you?”

Cho Chang suddenly moved away from the door and out came Fleur Weasley. She looked tired. “Haz my mother arrived?” she asked. Seeing no response she added, “She will zoon. Sent ‘er through.” She was about to go back through the door when she asked, “Ow is ‘arry?”

Cho shook her head and replied with, “Don’t know. The other door hasn’t opened. That’s why we are here.”

“Iz Ginny?”

“She’s in there with Harry.” Cho replied

“Zat is good. Zat is where she belongs.” With that Fleur went through the doors and back into the room with Mrs. Weasley.

About fifteen minutes later Fleur’s mother arrived to relieve Fleur. When Fleur walked out she was looking for a rest. That is why she called her mother for help. She was taught that was there was a problem; you called on the family first. That was the proper way to d things. One of the male DA’s used his wand to produce a comfortable chair for Fleur to rest in.

The DA’s sat about in a listless manner. Someone pulled out a portable battle chess set and a quiet game ensued. Someone else pulled out a pack of magical cards and selected to play Uno against the world-renowned player Moscar the Cardsharp. At odd intervals, someone would disappear to round up various bites to eat. Tidbits, nothing substantial. That’s when an elf marched in with a selection of succulent bites courtesy of Aberforth Dumbledore and his Hog’s Head Inn. That perked up everyone’s spirits. But still no news from behind closed doors.

Actually, Harry was on the mend. The battle raging across his forehead had been won by the Lord Voldemort’s lightning bolt. Leaning half on the bed was Ginny: fast asleep. She was still holding Harry’s hand. With progress being made the head doctor went outside to give the good news to the waiting DA’s.

“After considerable work, consulting some of the most eminent wizarding physicians and healers on the many problems we faced with Professor Potter, I can happily report that Professor Potter is on the road to a full recovery.” A great cheer erupted from the DA’s. Putting up his hand for quiet the good doctor continued with, “Miss. Weasley is comforting Professor Potter during these difficult times and sill by his side until she feels he is strong enough to retire for further rest, recovery and recuperation. For you, his closest friends, I would ask that you keep excitement to a minimum. Our potions and spells need time to do their work. Excitement could undo all our efforts, and we don’t want Professor Potter to suffer a relapse… do we?”

Cho was first off the mark with, “How long until he is up and out of here?” Her anxious eyes were still red from the constant dabbing.

“Days, yes I would say a few days.”

“Can we see him now?” asked Dean Thomas and Katie Bell in unison.

“He is still resting. Like I said, best let the magic do it’s healing. We don’t want to rush things.”

“Will he be okay?” Ernie Macmillan asked.

“Professor Potter should make a complete recovery. No harm or anything like that. Of course, I would recommend plenty of rest before he takes up his teaching roll at Hogwarts. Once school starts there will be many demanding little perishers to deal with.”

“Did he say perishers?” Hannah Abbott asked Susan Bones in a quiet voice. Susan nodded in the affirmative. Both were not amused at being known as the perishers even though they had just graduated with full honors.

“I would recommend you shoo along and give the room for other people. Come back in, say, two or three day’s time. Then we can reassess the situation and make further comments and adjustments. Yes… I think two or three days should do it.”

From the back of the DA’s came Madam Pomfrey’s sharp voice saying, “And what exactly did you do to Professor Potter?” Her sudden appearance was a surprise to everyone, including the good doctor.

“Ah, Madam Pomfrey, so glad you could join us.” The doctor’s tone clearly carried a note of disapproval. “I was just informing the assembled the good news. Professor Potter is on the road to recovery.”

“Yes, yes, yes… I got all that. What I’m asking is, what did you do to bring about such a remarkable outcome?”

“Ah, yes, what did we do…” The doctor paused as he scanned everyone’s eager eyes to know how he pulled this off. “Yes, we did it with powerful spells and potions.”

“I thought Professor Snape was your primary source of exotic or hard to make potions and compounds. With him not here, who are you using?”

“Ah yes, the absent Professor Snape. Very much like the absent Professor Dumbledore…”

“Potions, doctor, who is compounding your potions?” Madam Pomfrey asked again.

Realizing he was under scrutiny, the good doctor said, “I would rather not say. Professional discretion I think is best these days.”

“Okay,” Madam Pomfrey said, “Forget the name, then what potion was administered? I’m sure these budding witches and wizards are eager to know what was used so they could understand it’s uses and properties.”

Again, glancing into the eager eyes of the assembled DA’s, the doctor stalled… again. “Proprietary it is. Best not say due to catastrophic side effects.”

“That powerful?”

“Oh yes, very powerful. Challenging side effects. Iffy outcome. Nevertheless, we succeeded where others might have failed.”

“Most commendable I must say. So grateful we are that Professor Potter fell into your hands. I suppose we shall hear the rest of the story once Miss. Weasley emerges.”

The doctor’s face changed abruptly at that thought. “Well I don’t know about that… maybe best not ask too many questions. Hard to say what was going on during out struggle with such black magic…?”

Madam Pomfrey had heard and seen enough to know that the good doctor was stalling. Asking any more questions was going to be pointless. Ginny could provide any further information. “I think it is time to go back to Hogwarts, or at least to the Hog’s Head Inn for some more food and a discussion. We need to regroup and plan.”

There was a general agreement, except Cho. She really wanted to stay, but realized Ginny was there to take care of Harry. Finally it was a unanimous agreement. They exited the hospital in one’s and two’s so not to arouse any muggle suspicion. Once in a quiet location they disapparated only to apparate outside the Hog’s Head.

First in was Michael Corner who issued a cheery “Hello Aberforth…”

“It’s Mr. Dumbledore to you. Lot of cheeky sods these days coming out of that school. No ruddy respect for their elders.”

“Bit touchy aren’t we?” piped in Alicia Spinnet as she walked though the door with Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell.

“Girls, always sticking together. Not like in my day.”

“When was your day?” asked Anthony Goldstein just after he walked in to catch the conversation spiraling downward.

“Before your grandfather was born: I should guess.” Fired back Aberforth. He was in a bad mood because his cheese pie had failed, was now burnt, and fit only for the bin. Aberforth liked cheese pie, as it was one of his mother’s specialties.

Rather than throw it in the bin he tossed it on the counter for the DA’s to study and peck at. He was sure one of them would try it and break a tooth on the solid crust. He was not ready for Padma Pati to whip out her wand and start working her wonders over the pie. It was Parvati that gave context to the action. “Mother is too Indian to make really good pies. What she made was usually crunchy, dry and burnt. We had to find ways to make them editable. Padma got the hand of bringing back pies that were only fit for the gnome pile.”

Last to enter was Madam Pomfrey. She looked about to find Aberforth and said to him, “Is the upstairs room available? And something to eat. This lot’s always hungry.”

“Suppose so. It will be a bit before I can round up enough dead stuff for this lot.”

“The deader the better!” chimed in Michael Corner. He liked the place despite the odd person in the corner deep under their hood nursing a goblet of something or other for an awful long time.

The bustle of the DA’s sort of drove out some of the unsavory elements who did not like youth and exuberance in such abundance. As a few of the unsavory elements left Aberforth muttered quietly, “Good riddance to that one also.” That’s when Aberforth walked to the end of the bar, down a small flight of stairs to where the larder was. It was not a large larder, as he was not renowned for his food. Nevertheless, it contained enough to do a small group proud. After selecting a few choice cuttings, he delved into his baskets of vegetables.

He was thinking along the lines of a tasty stew, some bread he had made a few days earlier and some rice pudding left over from another birthday party he did just the other week. He stuck his finger into the pudding to have a taste. It still was good so he took the large jar, along with everything else, and got to work. Soon a savory smell started to meander through the Inn.

That’s when Neville burst through the inn entrance saying in a loud voice, “Who forgot to tell me of the meeting?”

Looking up Aberforth muttered, “Knew this one would show up. He eats for two. Good thing I made extra” Then added in a loud voice, “The lot of yer are up stairs. Why don’t you join them.” Then in a louder voice, he added, “And do it quietly!”

Neville smiled at the grumpy Aberforth, “Will do Professor Dumbledore.” He quickly said as he ascended the stairs. He knew calling him professor would wind up Aberforth. Once in the sitting room Neville looked about and noted that everyone was present and correct.

“About time you arrived Mr. Longbottom,” Madam Pomfrey said. “What is the plan for the day? More jumping about in Hogwarts?”

Smiling, Neville said, “Been there, done that. Time to move on.” Looking about he asked, “Since you lot are here, I take it Harry is okay?”

“We believe so,” Cho said in a rather quiet voice.

Then Madam Pomfrey Added, “That old bat of a quack said he is on the mend and should be up and about in a while.”

“Do you believe him?” Was Neville’s sharp query.

Madam Pomfrey looked thoughtful before carefully replying with, “I’ve seen a lot. There was plenty of it during the First War. Nasty stuff. Stuff that was meant to hurt and maim. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wanted everyone to remember him, carry his scars, and be a cripple for all to see his powers. Goodliness, kindness, fellowship were bad words back then. Viciousness, hatred and control were the words used back then.

“What happened to Harry was nothing like that. I’d say he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most were typical cutter spells. Except that is the one that cut his forehead. That was different as it cut his scar and that brought it back to life. That scar will never give up its hold on Harry.”

“You mean it has power over Harry?” Someone asked from beside Ariana’s portrait. Even Ariana was listening closely to the conversation that was going on.

“No, I do not believe that. If it had some power over Harry, then he would have lost against Voldemort. It’s there, never go away, and sets Harry different.”

“So no magical powers?”

“Only the ones he has learnt while at Hogwarts and from certain people along the way. I think that’s all there is to say about our Harry. Fortunately, he is young, strong, and very resilient. If the scar thing is healed, then I would expect him to recover.”

Then Neville asked, “And Ginny?”

“Still at the hospital by his side.”

“So, we have Harry and Ginny at St. Mungo’s…”

“And don’t forget Mrs. Weasley is still there with Fleur’s mother.” Added Alicia Spinnet.

“Is she?” said a surprised Neville. He missed that segment of excitement. “Nothing wrong, I hope?”

“What do you think with a lost husband, boys and Hermione off into the unknown on a shaky carpet, and Ginny in with a Harry who is knocking on death’s door.” Alicia added.

“Humm, see what you mean.”

“I think they will release Mrs. Weasley soon so she can go home. Better than staying in hospital, waiting. That’s what I think… anyway.”

“Your right, if anything happens, home is as good as any other place.” Rubbing his hands, Neville went into, “So, where are we going?”

“No where,” boomed Aberforth as be came up the stairs carrying the food. “Just sit down and put your chops into this lot.”

Bowls magically skidded into place followed by questionably clean spoons and napkins. Several loafs of bread came up the stairs and joined the caldron of steaming stew. “There now, a feast fit for a king.” Aberforth said. Then added, “Don’t forget grace, then tuck in.”

And that is exactly what they did. Once the rice pudding was consumed, there was a general feeling of satisfaction in the room. That’s when Madam Pomfrey asked, “What’s next for you lot?”

“Been thinking about that,” Neville replied. “I think there is more we can find by searching the forbidden forest some more. Not the Harry line. Like, I’m thinking the other groups. See if they were as careless as Hagrid, Mr. Weasley and Harry.”

“Careless how?” Lavender Brown asked.

“Cleanliness at campsites. Like we found tell-tail signs that it was Hagrid. Maybe the other groups were careless despite being clean. I’m thinking it might give us a clue.”

“Sounds slim,” Lee Jordan.

“It is. Or do you want to sit about waiting for Harry? Trail is getting cold and if we don’t go soon a good rain will wipe it the trail clean.”

“Or the forest will do that itself.” Someone added. That statement got a general nod of agreement.

That’s when Seamus Finnigan said, “But we have the trip coming up in a few days.”

“Trip, what trip?” A surprised Neville asked.

“The Seamus Android European trip. You know, all the best and ancient wizard sites. Plenty to see and new spells to learn…”

“Oh that trip,” muttered Neville. He had no plans of going despite sounding good. He had too much to do getting ready for life after Hogwarts.

“Seems some more have signed up,” Seamus Finnigan added. “Going to be a big trip.”

Reading between the lines Neville asked, “So you will be off soon?”

“Monday, June 1st.” Was the short reply.

“Oh, that’s soon.”

“School’s finished early so we changed the date. Why hang about?”

Neville was about to say something like, ‘Wait for Harry to get back on his feet.’ Then he realized life carries on with different people having different priorities. Rather than fussing, Neville nodded in acceptance of the inevitable. “Okay, didn’t realize it was that close.”

A somewhat embarrassed Seamus Finnigan replied with, “Look, we only graduate once. Only have one chance for this road trip. Harry is on the mend. Madam Pomfrey said so. So the general feeling is to go.”

Neville noted there was no mention of the Weasley men out chasing their father, or about Mrs. Weasley still in hospital under the weight of this unknown. Realizing it was the wrong time to bring up these points, he let them slide. Forcing a smile on his face Neville said, “Go and take loads of photos for me. Maybe one day I’ll get to go.”

The chatter continued for a while as they let their food digest. The general drift of the conversation was away from Harry and to this upcoming trip. At a latish hour, the group slowly broke up and departed their various ways to make final preparations for the upcoming trip. Little did they know that this would be the last DA meeting.

 


	12. Boy Blue is in Town

**June 2, 1998** **, Tuesday**

 

_The future is the unknown_

_everyone faces every day of their life._

_Ignore it and something grand_

_will pass you by._

From Hobbit Songs & Saying, 2nd Edition.

 

Neville and a few of the others spend the night at Hogwarts. Old habits die hard. They wanted to be close to Hogsmeade so they could be early at the early market.

 The market has been an institution at Hogsmeade for an awful long time. In the old days,  the market was more Scottish Quartre days of Candlemas, Whitsunday, Lammas, and Martinmas along with all the paperwork, documents, etc., That sort of died out during the 1950’s and now the market was more of a general market where all sorts of odds and ends are bought, sold, or bartered.

Unofficially, the first market of the month was more of a fruit and veg market. To buy in enough to last through the month. Unofficially, the last market of the month was more of a scrap and junk selling and bartering market.

Aside from the special days, every Saturday, all sorts of stuff went on. Stuff like medicine to cure all known ills. Creams to bring back youth. Hair colourations sure to rekindle old flames of yore.

Then there were the questionable magical odds and ends. Many were out and out hoaxes: but not all. Some were inventions of suspect minds. Others offered gloves that would always win at cards. The crystal ball that could always see the future. Mystical cards that predicted the future. Fire dust you threw into a flaming fire so you could see the future. There were a lot of wizarding people that wanted to see the future.

However, life doesn’t work that way. The future is what you make it and is not written down in some book to be followed blindly. Not all witches and wizards believed that. Many were on the lookout for a fast and easy ride into the future that, sadly, usually became a dead end full of sorrow and disappointment.

There were many more oddities, mechanical oddities, plant creatures, wispies for girls, disappearing strings for boys and there ever favorite squeaking frogs for toddlers to chase and squeeze. Something for everyone who had coins in their pocket or something better to barter with.

Knowing the last week would be a good time, Fred Weasley made sure Weasley’s' Wizard Wheezes had a stall there. This was the place he tried out the more exoteric and untested items that may or may not make it into the shop at Diagon Alley. Above the general market hubbub Neville could hear Fred’s moniker tune blasting out just before Fred’s understudy, Flambeau Vacherie started his sales patter.

Neville was about half way between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts when he saw in the distance a small figure walking beside a horse drawing a small Shepard’s caravan. Neville squinted hard as the sun was not really up to burn off all the morning mist.

The person in the distant raised a staff in welcome. Neville replied by offering half a wave. Then Neville could hear his high-pitched voice coming across the fields. The words were hard to hear but Neville did grab some of them. “Don’t some mothers ’ave ‘em” and “I’m all there with me cough drops.” Then there was a louder “Ooh flippin’ eck” as he dropped his walking staff on the ground. Neville had to smile at this comic act going on across the way.

That’s when he heard a yell go up from someone back in Hogsmeade, “Boy Blue is back!” The small man waved his staff high above his head in acknowledgement.

Neville had heard stories about Boy Blue ever since he walked into Hogwarts. He, along everyone else, discounted them as Boy Blue never came by Hogwarts only Hogsmeade and only came by once every year or was it two. It could be three years. No one kept track of boy Blue, as it was pointless. Boy Blue was one of the very few itinerant traveling tinkers still alive. He was old, very old. How old he was, no one knew. He traveled all over the place. Where he came from or where he was going, nobody knew. All they knew was when he arrived and departed.

The only sure thing about Boy Blue was his stories. Stories he would tell as he performed menial tasks while people sat about listening to tales of different people in far away places. No one knew if they were true of not, it didn’t really matter as Boy Blue was such a good storyteller that everyone became mesmerized as he worked away.

Because he came by so infrequently, the usual work he did these days was sharpening knives. Carried on the side of his caravan was an ancient stone that was turned by peddling while sitting on the one seat.

As Boy Blue got closer to Hogsmeade, Neville saw more and more people apparating then running out to greet the traveler. Everyone wanted to hear his stories. This was such a big event that entire families started apparating once it was known it was really him..

Neville picked up the pace as he headed to Hogsmeade joining in the crowd. He was surprised by the number of people there to greet the traveler. When he reached the outskirts of the assembled group, they broke into the well-known traveler song, _We all clap hands when the traveler comes_. Which was quickly followed by, _The traveler comes to do work while mother cooks the meal_. Everyone knew the songs as they were taught to every small wizarding tot.

Once the crowd gathered about the tinker he was lost from view. That was no surprise as he stood about five foot, in his stocking feet.

Seeing the small tinker was not the point, the point was to listen to him and that is what everyone wanted. It was all part of the tinkers ritual. He was expected to sing for his supper. In that light he took down his knife grinder, got is set up and yelled out, “ Where are those bloomin’ knives?”

In response a great yell went up, “Boy Blue is back!”

Slowly the families spread out their blankets for the family to sit on. Where little tots could actually see the one and only Boy Blue. Others settled down while leaving a path to Boy Blue. At the head of the line on the path was Aberforth. In the two baskets he was carrying were every knife in his establishment.

Boy Blue poked about in the first basket and said, “Is that all? I thought your place was bigger!”

Again, another big roar went up, “Boy Blue is working.” So ended the initial ritual between Boy Blue and wherever he stopped and worked. Who came up with that opening batter, no one knew. Something’s are too old even for history to know.

With everyone sitting down, or standing at the back, Boy Blue became visible. Boy blue was dressed in black shoes, knee-high socks, gray shorts with matching school blazer and cap. He did not look or sound anything past 12 ¾. Then Neville saw Boy Blue’s eyes. They were vivid blue in the center of very white eyes. The colours were in sharp contrast to the sun darkened skin tone. No wonder people called him Boy Blue.

A tentative hush descended over the assembled crowd as they waited for the first story.

Boy Blue reached into the basket and pulled out the first knife that was to be sharpened. The wheel began to spin and the sparks began to fly. Then the first story began to be unfolded.

The first story was of a small family group living by a large waterway colored red. From the shoreline they could hear the distant putt-putt of a slow moving motor launch. The launch was owned by an alien from a planet that had blown up because no one could get along with each other. The alien was far away from home when it happened and made it back to this planet. Other stragglers also made it. After much talk, the realization that life had forever changed. No home, no family, no future… Without a home to go to, what was the point going anywhere?

Many of these travelers could not handle the loss and went mad. Some sank into the bottle while others tried to accept the new reality and make a go of it. The alien was one that was trying to assimilate into the new reality as he went from one small settlement to another. The alien had the knack of fixing things the locals could not understand. The alien thought it strange that the locals did not have these skills, as there were many ruins of an advanced civilization still visible. The ruins contained the machines of advanced complexity while these locals went through life scraping by. They farmed a little and fished a little more. Their style was to be self-sufficient. However, because they could not fathom the junk about them, their progress out of the basics was far from clear. That is why they were always listening for the phut-phut of the alien coming by to fix their broken tools and other basic implements.

The alien had been wandering about along the red waterways for an awful long time. Knowing his home planet was gone, was one thing accepting his home planet was gone, was something else.

Along with his constant wanderings came a realization that time was not on his side. He could continue to wander or, one day, stop and settle down. To wander or to stay was the battle of his heart. And at this small place was a local beauty. Not the beauty of his home planet, the beauty that this place produces. To understand and see the beauty of the locals only comes from time and an open mind. Of all the books the alien kept, was a well-thumbed copy of the New Testament. Though the eyes of the good book he came to ponder on the universal nature of the words it contained. This is where the alien formulated the belief, the strong belief, of the universal nature of people. All different people gathered under the wings of a universal Father in heaven. This universal notion did not go down too well with the other travelers as they thought they were superior than the locals. The Alien would smile at such notions realizing that within fifteen or twenty years the only ones left would be the locals. The question the alien had was, could the locals survive on the path they have chosen? Who would fix their tools? Who would mend their pots? Who would teach them sewing techniques?

Then Boy Blue concluded the story with, “The alien fixed the accumulated pots and pans like a good traveler should. The difference being was a local girl. Daughter of a family the traveler knew well. Since it had been a long while since he was last there, the daughter had grown into a well-proportioned local.

“The alien left but the mother knew the signs. They are universal signs of a desire. That deep-seated desire of a family. A family with children. The mother knew the traveler would be back soon. She knew he would be back because she was a mother, knew the looks of men, and the soundness of the traveler’s heart.”

With that, Boy Blue sat back and sighed. The spell of the story slowly dissipated and some of the assembled mothers were noted for wiping tears from the eyes.

If there is one thing common among wizards and witches was an abject fascination of tails from a long time ago in a galaxy far, fat away. Sci-Fi stories of aliens, space travel, or tails of strange planets were held in high esteem. The juxtaposition of being a witch or wizard and lovers of sci-fi stories has been well studied over the centuries by many eminent doctors, philosophers and physiologists. Reams and reams of parchments have been written and quickly forgotten. No one has clearly fathomed out the fascination with sci-fi: but it is there..

Despite all their skills no witch or wizard has ever been in space. The closest to space anyone had gotten was on a specially designed highflying broom. It had to be specially designed as the high flyer had to take along a supply of oxygen.

When humankind finally cracked to space code and the Russians put a man into space, virtually all the witches and wizards in the entire world were glued to every TV shot of Uri Gagarin. If you look at Uri’s world tour, you will see many witches and wizards in the cheering crowds.

Once the Johnson Space Center was created, many witches and wizards moved there to be close to all this space activity. Likewise, a group of hardened witches and wizards moved to Cape Canaveral and kept a place reserved where witches and wizards could congregate and enjoy the lift-offs.

The love affair with space travel extended to the movies. 2001 A Space Odyssey caused a huge stir in the wizarding community. Stories of a lost black monolith went zooming through the community. Many groups were off trekking here and there… All in search of some lost, or hidden, black monolith. Of course, nothing was found. That fact seemed to drive people further and further to find it.

Searching for the monolith only died down when everyone was climbing mountains looking for a Close Encounter.

After wetting his whistle, Boy Blue started the next story that soon captivated everyone present. Now Neville could understand why Boy Blue was held in such high regard. He was an excellent storyteller.

When all the knives had been sharpened. After the scythes and sickles were ready for work, Boy Blue came to a close. He had been talking for a long while and he was getting dry and peckish.

In his boyish voice Boy Blue said, “See you lot this afternoon. Make sure you bring your knives for me to work.”

With that Neville realized his plans for the day hadn’t came to much. His wander about the market had gotten sidetracked. Shaking himself back into the present Neville headed off to find Fred’s understudy for a chat.

It is about three in the afternoon when the market starts to wind down and pack up. Most people try to be totally packed up by four or so to allow the elves full range over the market area to return it to its usual spick and span condition.

Neville left the market about three-thirty and headed back across the field to Hogwarts. He almost got to the door when a small owl came zooming round his head at am alarming speed. Neville was sure the owl missed his ear by only a few inches. Finally the small bird landed in Neville’s outstretched hand. Taking the small note from his beak, Neville unfolded the note and read, “See me tonight at Madame Puddifoot’s. Boy Blue.”

Neville had not been into Madame Puddifoot’s in a long while. ‘A curious place for a meeting’, thought Neville. During their infrequent visits to Hogsmeade, the usual clientele were youthful boys and girls who didn’t mind the tacky and frilly appearance of the place because they were making eyes at each other. Or secretly holding hands under the table followed by a quick peck on the cheek. Sometimes, if the boy was brave enough, a promissory note of undying love and adoration would be passed. These are the ones Madame Puddifoot catered to, as she was a romantic at heart.

Neville headed back to Hogsmeade about six in the evening as he thought that would be a good time to meet, as the note did not say a time.

By the village stable, Boy Blue’s small horse was munching on hay in a bag. The close by small caravan looked empty so Neville headed towards Madame Puddifoot’s place.

Since school was out and virtually every Hogwarts student was gone, Madame Puddifoot’s place was empty except for one small looking person sitting at the back table with three sticky buns on a plate and a glass of milk aside. When Neville entered, the usual welcoming tune rang out. Boy Blue waved Neville over while munching on a particularly chewy bun.

“Bloomin heck, these are good.” Boy Blue muttered between bites. “Have one, if you want.”

Neville declined politely. He sat there waiting while all three buns disappeared in rapid succession. “Ooh, that hit the spot just right,” Boy Blue sighed. Then, after a small pause Boy Blue continued with, “Saw you the other night I did. Zooming about the sky like a bat out of hell. Bloody ‘el I thought, ‘who the ‘el is doing all that zooming’ I thought. Seems it was all you. Don’t go for brooms and the like. Too flash. I go with the old ways, I do. Much more ordinary and proper, I think. So, what’s going on?”

Neville looked long and hard at Boy Blue. He didn’t know what to make of him. He popped in out of the forbidden forest and everyone got excited. A few good stories later, he expected to be privy to the entire goings on of the DA’s. Not exactly the entrance that endears trust and fellowship.

While Neville was thinking Boy Blue looked past Neville at the looming form at the door. The door to Madame Puddifoot’s place burst open and in came the tall and well built Viktor Krum. Neville spun around to hear Krum fire off the first question, “Ver is Potter?”

“In hospital.” Replied Neville.

“Is he good?”

“He will recover.”

“Ow bad is he?”

“All I know is, he will recover. Go and see for your self.”

“I will. But you tell me more. You were there.”

Looking from Krum to Boy Blue, Neville decided to play it close. “All I did was find Harry and bring him back. Madame Pomfrey put him in hospital.”

After a quick thought, Krum said, “I go there next.”

“That’s all I know.” Concluded Neville.

At that, Krum stood up to his full height and came back with, “You know more. Many, many more. I know.” Krum hit his own chest to add emphasis to his statement.

“Then go and ask Harry,” Neville said as he felt himself getting stuck in a corner.

“No, you tell more before I go.”

“There is nothing more to tell. Found Harry and got him out. Then he went to hospital and is there on the mend.”

“Not what I hear at home in Bulgaria.”

“Then what do you hear back in Bulgaria?” Neville quickly asked as he changed from defense to attack.

“We hear a lot.”

“A lot of what?”

“A lot going on in the forest.”

“There is always a lot going on in the forest. Lots going on there all the time.” Then, on a wing and a prayer, he added, “Just like Durmstrang.”

A surprised Krum came back with, “What you know ‘bout the lost forest?”

“’Ere, ‘ere, ‘ere, you two are like a couple of bloomin’ old maids. What are you fussing about?” Boy Blue said in his boyish voice. “We are supposed to be on the same side. The side that won the Battle of Hogwarts.”

Krum banged the table with the flat of his hand that made the plate and cup of milk jump about. He then said in a pointed voice, “That does not matter any more. Quidditch is that what counts.” Then pointing at Boy Blue, he added, “People like you, too old don’t understand. Don’t appreciate the game. Don’t follow the action. Don’t know what I, Viktor Krum will accomplish with Harry as the seeker of today.”

“You’re barmy… that’s what you are,” was Boy Blue’s reply as he jumped to his feet and made himself as tall as he could. “In two year’s time, people won’t remember you or your silly game. Chasing a round ball while being hit all the time isn’t right. Barmy to do it and barmy to watch. That’s what it is, just a barmy game invented at Oxbridge!”

Neville could see the temperature rising in Krum as he face was going bright red in rage. The advantage Boy Blue had was his shortness. Krum could not get down to his level and look him in the eye. Despite the height disparity Krum let loose with, “You are a silly little man who knows nothing of Quidditch. You tell your silly stories… you do that and keep out of my game.”

“Your game?”

“Yes, my game. I am Viktor Krum. Everyone in the world knows I am the best seeker in the world. I make games. I win games. I control games. I am the best…”

“Then why do you want Harry?” Neville had to ask.

“Ah, because he is famous. Us two will dominate the game like never seen. We will stomp, we will smash, we will win every game.” Then in an off hand way added, “So long as he listens to me: I am the best seeker before and after anyone else.”

“Cocksure aren’t you?”

Somewhat puzzled, Krum asked, “What is cocksure?”

In a somewhat casual manner, Boy Blue, dismissed the question with a, “Oh, it’s not important. What is, is you coming down to earth and listening to reason. Regular people aren’t that interested on your silly game. There are more important things going on like, world peace, starving children in Africa, or insulted aborigines in Australia. Stuff like that is more important.”

“Ha, you look small. You miss the game. You see things wrong. The game is what brings people together…”

At that point Ludovic Bagman came in the shop. The conversation dynamics changed.

“There you are,” beamed Krum.

“Who’s the short guy?” Bagman asked.

“I am the well known teller of tall tails, Boy Blue by name and by reputation.”

“Never heard of you.” Was Bagman’s short reply.

“Well, I’ve heard of you,” said Boy Blue. Then added, “I think everyone who has been ripped off has heard of you.”

“Never proven in a court of law.” Fired back Bagman.

“You have never seen the inside of a court of law. Always on the run.”

“Then I’m innocent. Innocent, I say, until proven guilty beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“It would happen if you stopped running and faced the charges.”

“What charges?”

“The ones against you.”

“No one from the Ministry has ever presented me with any charge.”

“It is a long list of charges, not one charge.”

“Then I protest my innocence because I am innocent.”

“Shortly you will be caught.”

“Short you are. Shortly I can wait. And then everything shall be just fine. That’s right, isn’t it Victor?”

“We shall win the league, the shield and the European Cup. We shall rule over all Europe. No one will be able to stop us. Our power, our might, and our skills shall be so far ahead of anyone else, we shall be famous for ever.” The power with which Krum delivered his prediction was awe-inspiring.

“Yes.” The captivated Bagman said in deep respect with which Krum delivered his predictions.

Krum was seeing his team’s cabinet filled with silverware of all shapes and sizes while Bagman was seeing his pockets filled with golden Galleon’s. That’s when Bagman said, “I think we better carry on this chit chat outside.”

Suddenly realizing where he was, Krum quickly agreed with, “Of course.” And the two of them strolled out of the shop to a more quiet part of Hogsmeade, down by the Shrieking Shack.

As Krum and Bagman walked out of the shop, Boy Blue walked to the door and watched then disappear from view. “Now, what do you think the greatest seeker in the world has in common with an out of shape Beater who once played for Wimborne Wasps?” Then looking back out of the window added, “Bet it has nothing to do with the price of tea in China.” After taking a swig from a hip flask, Boy Blue turned around and said to Neville, “You don’t trust me, do you?”

“Should I?”

“Of course not. I’m a stranger to these parts. The last time I was passing by was a good few years past. Only stayed for a short spell. Time of the World Quid ditch Cup. Bit of a mess at the end so I skedaddled out of town. You know, didn’t want to get mixed up with any Imperial trouble, if you know what I mean.”

Along with a blank look, Neville gave a deadpan statement of, “No, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, come on, everyone was there…”

“Where?”

“At the World Cup Game.”

“Only the privileged few could go. That didn’t include me.” Then Neville quickly added, “I think you have the wrong person.” With that statement he started for the door only to be blocked by a fast moving Boy Blue

“Now, now, now… let’s not be too hasty, shall we. Just want to get acquainted with the great Neville Longbottom.”

“Who said I was great?”

“Come, come, now. There was only one Mr. Longbottom at the Battle of Hogwarts. Only one and that one is you.”

“I’m not famous. You see me with pots of Galleons? Are these fancy new cloths? I think you have the wrong person.”

Seeing it was a lost cause from the start, Boy Blue moved out of the way of the door. “Suit your self,” was all he could think of. This interview went wrong from the very start. As Neville exited the shop, Boy Blue called out, “Be seeing you.”

The hospital visit made Neville realize he had not been to see his parents in a short while. Rather than return to Hogwarts he went back to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to see his parents Frank and Alice Longbottom.

As usual, both his parents were sitting in easy chairs by the large magical windows. The scene today was of a beautiful summer’s day down by the beach. In the distance there were young children being watched over by attentive parents. Out to sea were several sailing boats accompanied by and ever present RNLI boat. The tide was in, it is always in. On the grass was a large picnic basket full of home made and healthy snacks.

 Neville pulled up a chair to join his parent. It took the usual few minutes for his parents to fully comprehend someone had joined them. That’s when his mother would pull out a chewing gum wrapper and hand it to Neville. Neville politely said, “Thank you,” while leaving off the appellation “mother,” as the doctors said she would not comprehend the full meaning of the word and could cause more confusion. Rather than create problems, Neville kept it simple.

Once he had the wrapper, his father would turn to him and start wagging his finger at his son. Never a word was spoken, just a well repeated finger wagging routine. Then Neville would start his summary of his activities since his last visit. Same routine he has been doing for as long as he could remember. While sitting with his parents, Neville often wondered if remembering was a blessing or a curse.

 

*  *  *  *

 

 

**Sunday May 31, 1998**

Neville woke early. He wanted to visit the forbidden forest and see where the other tracks started. Since the people were not hiding anything, Neville agreed with his notion, there must be something there to follow up and track down. Neville dove into his trunk at the end of his bed. Somewhere buried there was the necessary camping and tramping togs. Once found and dusted off he visited Hogwarts kitchen for the necessary supplies. Once done, Neville headed off to the forbidden forest. He was looking for the head of the trail Harry, Hagrid and Mr. Weasley had taken. He knew the other tracks were out there, out there waiting to be found.

Watching Neville strike out on his own was Professor McGonagall. She was observing from behind Hagrid’s cottage. Her information was correct. Once Neville was on his way she lifted her hand for a passing owl. One swooped down from a nearby tree. She knew this owl. She quickly scribbling a few notes, then attaching them to the owl’s leg. With a slight nod from Professor McGonagall, the owl reached for the sky in an upward trajectory only skilled owls can take.

 

* * * *

 

The morning started badly for Al and his small troop. Charlie was missing. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to have a good idea where Charlie went. In a terse voice Al said, “Better go pick him up. That’s if he hasn’t gone native or turned rogue.”

“Good one,” Ron said in a jestful response. He missed Hermione’s cold look and kick.

“Son, this is no laughing matter. Going native usually ends up with someone being dead. Humans can’t swim underwater as long as Selkies.” That’s when the penny dropped and Ron realized what Al was alluding to.

Everyone dressed quickly, even the two elves at the station. This was a full blown emergency requiring all available hands. All except one to man the observation post. It was a quick and cold breakfast before Al and his small band headed out into the early morning gloom. Everyone had muscles that did not want to work again after the forced march of yesterday. Fighting reluctance and unkind thoughts of Charlie, Al pushed on at a good pace. Soon everyone was back in line following Al as he forced the pace.

Al was out front followed by Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Hermione, Ron with Hermustus bringing up the rear.

As time went by, the clouds thickened to cast a gloom across the small group as they trudged on and on. Finally the rain came. Slowly at first and the heavier by degrees. Everyone, except Ron, had packed their lightweight ponchos. Soon he was totally soaked and tramped on in his wet boots. No one offered sympathy. No one wanted to stop. No one was thinking too far ahead. Everyone was hoping, hoping for the best, while fearing the worst… as they tramped on and on going back down the trail to the waters of Sebus.

On this backward march Al took the troop by the direct route. It cut out almost thirty minutes. As they got close Al raised his clenched left hand. Everyone stopped and crouched down. Al crept forward to see what he could see. From this rise in the land he could see a panoramic view of the waters of Sebus. Seeing nothing he pulled out his optical binoculars. He had forgotten his mystical pair. He scanned this way and that. Nothing unusual was visible.

The water had taken on a gray colour and the rocks were dark with early morning shadows. About the lake, and adding to the picture, was a thin mist. The general appearance was one on neglect and reticence. Seeing no reason to stop, Al waved the team up and onward. They scrambled down to the mist and flat rocks surrounding the lake.

Ron fired a worried look at Hermione. She could not muster a smile for her Ron. Seeing he needed reassurance, Hermione took his clenched hand, pried it open and held it close. She could feel Ron relax a little: only a little.

Al took an anticlockwise route around the lake. It was a large lake and Al and company had no time limit on the search. They clambered up and over rocks. They jumped rocks. Every now and again they would slip and fall. Regardless they pressed on. They pressed on seeing nothing out of the ordinary. They saw the water, rocks and the mist vanishing as the sun climbed higher and higher. They saw the shadows shorten. They saw the water take on a bit of a blue tint. They saw the day shake off its slumber. What they did not see was Charlie.

When they got closer to the end of their circumnavigation of the lake Al held up his clenched fist. The troop dropped down fast as Al got down on his knees and peaked over a rock. Out came the binoculars and he scanned the area. Again, nothing except for a piece of parchment with a stone on it.

Al slid around the rock, crawled over the ground and put his hand up to flick off the rock and grab the parchment. One moment the parchment was there, and the nest it was gone. Everyone was looking about to see if anything happened when Al retreaved the parchment.

Nothing changed, nothing moved, nothing happened. Al let out a sigh that everyone heard. Playing it safe, Al crawled back to join the others. Once back, he quickly opened up the parchment and read aloud the note.

 

_D_ _o you love me do you want to be my friend_

_And if you do_

_Well then don't be afraid to take me by the hand_

_If you want to_

_I think this is how love goes_

 

At the bottom of the parchment was drawn two boxes and the instruction to _Check yes or no_. The ‘yes’ box was checked in strait bold lines.

George grabbed the parchment and looked long and hard at the two strait lines in the yes box. It was like he did not trust Al or his own eyes. Regardless of what he wanted, George had to accept the bold strait lines indicating ‘yes’.

“Shit!” Was Bill’s long and painful lament. The hole in the bottom of his stomach just got too big to hold. Percy turned bone white and sank to the ground. Hermione reached for Ron, hugged him close and started to sob.

Seeing his troops falling to bits Al said in a forceful voice. “A note doesn’t mean a thing. We got to find something concrete. Something tangible. We are not going to quit now. We have work to do and that is what elves, witches and wizards do. We keep going until we can’t go any more.” Looking about from face to face, Al could see a small glimmer of hope.

“The only thing this note means is something happened here. We don’t know who and we don’t know what. Let’s focus on that.” Al continued with, “Now we need to know the rest of the story.” Looking at their faces, Al quickly cobbled together a plan. “Okay, this is the plan. Hermustus and myself will search the area and back down the trail looking for signs etc., We are going to do it the elf way. You lot are to stay put so as not to muddle up the signs on the ground. We shall be thorough, so don’t expect us back for a while.” After a pause he asked, “Any questions?” There was none. “Good.” Then turning to the other elf Al said, “You ready Hermustus?” Hermustus nodded in agreement and the two elves too off sliding around the rocks getting lost to view from the others.

The rising sun did not lift the gloom from the Weasley boys or Hermione. Nor did it change the silence that was surrounding them. Gloom and silence is never a good combination as dejection is just around the corner. Seeing gloominess coming in Hermione said, “Let’s talk this through.” No one responded.

“Ron?” Even Ron was not in a talking mode. Hermione reached for Ron’s chin and turned his face to face her.

Looking at him, face to face, Hermione said, “Do you remember when I was down and afraid of doing magic on my parents? Do you remember I was doing everything possible not to face the facts of why I was there? Do you remember all the stalling I did? And do you remember what you did for me?” Ron reached up, took Hermione’s hand, and put it against his cheek.

“You said I had to try or forever wonder ‘what if’. Same here. We have to get looking and assume Charlie is alive out there. Like Al is saying, a note is not proof it has anything to do with Charlie.”

“You’re right,” Ron said in a quiet voice. “It’s just like not him to be a fierce Quidditch player and then working with fierce dragons in Romania to go chasing Selkies.”

“Really Ron, do you see Charlie take a Selkie skin and hiding it? That’s not his way.”

“But what if Charlie doesn’t know she is a Selkie…”

“You said he had heard the stories for a long time. I would hope he knows all the stories by heart. He should know what to do and not do.”

“What if he is beguiled by their beauty? You saw how he reacted when Al said we’d be passing by the waters of Sebus. He got all weak-kneed and glazed eyes. I’d say he was in gaga land.”

“Okay, he wanted to see one. Doesn’t mean he came here and gone swimming to find a Selkie.”

“No, but they could have found him swanning about and tricked him.”

“Possible, so let’s wait for further information from Al and Hermustus. In the meanwhile, let’s get a tent up and make a pot of tea. I could use a cup right about now.”

Ron slowly got up and pulled out the tent. Once up and the tea brewing, the general feeling amongst the Weasley boys and Hermione raised a couple of notches. Things looked even better when Ron found some hot cross buns of a dubious age and origin. With a few deft moves of her wand, Hermione made sure the buns were safe and editable.

With Al taking his time, everyone found a comfortable spot to take a nap. The marching about, the short night all combined for a good nap.

Al was not amused by the slackness exhibited by his troop members. All asleep at the wheel. Anything could have happened. Regrettable performance. Indicative of the difference between wizards and elves.

Finally, Bill said, “Okay Al, we get the picture. Nothing happened and you are back. So, what did you find?”

After a bit of a bustle about Al started with, “Our research clearly shows a single wizard track coming down the rise to the lake. To a spot over there.” Al indicated where ‘there’ was by pointing in a vague direction that no one could see since they were all standing in the tent. “Our research also shows a second set of foot prints. This second set were barefooted prints, not shoe prints as was the first. From that I am concluding this was an arranged meeting as both sets of prints were facing each other.”

“How close were they to each other?” Bill asked.

“They were very close.”

“Close enough for contact?”

“I would say so.”

Bill paused in his questioning and asked Bill, “Do you remember Charlie having a pen pal?”

Bill shook his head. “Don’t remember Charlie doing much else besides Quidditch out back and reading up on dragons. I’d say he was fixated by those two activities and that’s it.”

“You’re right. But go back further… when we were kids…”

“You lot are older than me. I don’t remember that far back.”

“I seem to remember Charlie had a pen pal. A pen pal from the northern parts of Scotland. Somewhere about Pennan.”

Again, Percy shook his head. “Nope, does not ring any bells.”

“Mother thought it would be a good idea for us to have pen pals to bring in diversity and inclusion. I went for a welsh pen pal and Charlie went for a Scottish one. I think the idea was to help us in our diction and writing style: that along with diversity and inclusion.”

Hermione joined in with, “Where did this diversity and inclusion come from? Your mother doesn’t seem to be a person worried about that sort of stuff.”

“Oh but she is. Well back then she was. Wanted us to have a broad view on the world and not our little corner of Devon. I kept it going for about eight years or so. Having a pen pal while at Hogwarts didn’t go over too well. That and the other stuff going on meant less time for pen palls. We drifted apart.”

“Hang on a moment,” Ron said, “You mean you were writing to a non-wizard? A muggle?”

The inference bothered Bill and he replied with, “And what is wrong with having a muggle pen pal? We got on perfectly well for years and years. I learned a lot about life in the Welsh valleys. I never realized how tough life was for muggles. That’s when I realized how easy life was for us wizards and made me work harder at Hogwarts.”

“So who is he?” Ron quickly asked.

“Who said it was a he?”

“Wow… this is news. You mean you were writing to a female muggle for years and years?”

“Who said it was a girl? Not me.”

Seeing there was a game being played on him, Ron backed away with, “Okay, you wrote to a muggle for lots of years and learned lots of things from this person.”

With a smug smile Bill replied with, “That’s about right, young brother.”

“Then why didn’t I get a pen pal?” Ron asked in a searching tone.

“You better ask George that question. George and Fred put the mockers on that activity; didn’t you George?”

“Not me, it was all Fred…”

“Oh yes, blame the dead one!” Bill fired back. “You two were thick as thieves. If I remember it rightly. One day they decided to take off on one of father’s specially adapted tricycles to visit their pen palls. George on the seat and Fred standing on the back. Dad had it fixed for one of their birthdays.”

“Eighth birthday.”

“What were you two doing with a tricycle on your eighth birthday?” Hermione asked

“We went everywhere on that thing. No peddling all the way,” George said with a big grin on his face. “And dad loved doing the conversion for us.”

“So you egged him on?”

“No… no we didn’t. Just suggested that a magical tricycle would be such a neat birthday present to get us around the garden as we worked it.”

“And then they took off to see their pen pals. Early one morning it was. Mother thought they were out playing somewhere. Then dad got an owl from the ministry saying his boys had been spotted on the motorway shoulder going as fast as the cars. Caused quite a problem. The ministry had to send a rather large team to put things right. Being so small, like, the ministry had a hard time finding the two of them. By the time they caught up with the boys they had already been to one pen pal in Liverpool…”

“Couldn’t understand a word he said,” George muttered. His accent was too thick. Didn’t come across as that on paper. So we left him standing at his doorstep.”

“That’s when the men from the ministry found them. Going to the second pen pal somewhere in Yorkshire.”

“That’s when the ministry suggested to mother that diversity and inclusion should be between our own type of witches and wizards and not with muggles. Father was reprimanded for messing about with a muggle tricycle. He was lucky. The ministry thought that since the tricycle was so small there wasn’t much you could get up to on it. We still have it somewhere in the shed.”

“Your dad removed all the spells from it?” Hermione casually asked.

George gave a big grin and replied with, “He removed everything. Then Fred and I put back a few things. It still goes pretty good… if you know how to use it.”

Bill said, “That’s all fine and good, but it is not going to help us find Charlie!”

Seeing the conversation was going nowhere, Hermione asked George, “Do you have any extended eyes with you?”

“Who said I had extended eyes?” Then looking at a red faced Ron, George added, “Spilled the beans did we younger brother?”

Ron shrugged his shoulders as George went fishing for a few. He threw them up in the air and they scattered about. “Slight modification, extended flight abilities.” George then handed out the requisite fold up glasses to see what the eyes were seeing.

Ron was amazed how his brother kept coming up with new twists to extended eyes even while they were under development.

“What’s that?” Hermione said. There was an edge to her voice. One of the extended eyes had gone behind the group, inland, away from the water.

Ron focused his glasses on the same extended eye. “Don’t see anything… wait… what’s that? A lizard?”

Percy started to walk towards the extended eye. “No,” Hermione said. That’s no ordinary lizard. Look… just back a bit on both sides. Three of them.” With that, Hermione and Ron pulled out their wands, the others followed.

Hermione handed her glasses to Al and asked, “Ever seen them before?”

“Sure, they hang about the waters. Never bothered us once. No records of any of them bothering any of us. That’s why we keep a log, just incase we forget about it in a few of a hundred years time.”

“So, you’ve seen them before… do you know what they are called?”

Al looked at Hermustus then both shook their heads in unison.  Hermustus said, “See them hanging about. Never bothered with them. We have our duty to do. They don’t bother us, so we don’t bother them.”

Ron looked at Hermione before he asked, “And how often do you see them?”

“Oh, maybe every day when we go out looking, gathering and recording.” Was Hermustus’ thoughtful reply. “Like I said, they seem to move out of the way when we go out. And that is about it.”

“George,” Hermione said quietly, “Use those extendable eyes to scan the area. See if there are any more of those lizards out there.”

George got to work as the eyes buzzed about. “Yes, three more about the two o’clock position and three more about the nine o’clock place.”

All Hermione could think to say was, “Shit. Should have brought brooms.”

Then Hermione said to Ron, “On me in three. Usual me, you, me pattern.”

In an icy cold voice Ron replied with, “Got it.”

“Then rapid fire tap and run. Go right first then circle round to the left. Expect things to change: so be on your toes.”

“Got it.”

“Hang on, what are you two up to?” Bill asked.

“We have a big problem,” Hermione said rapidly. “Those lizards are Ysalamirs. Nasty buggers. They make you forget. Saw them down under. If you don’t deal with them fast, you forget. Forget as in forget too much. It’s like they suck your memories out of you. So, we have a choice: sit here and forget, or deal with them.” Looking at Ron, Hermione added, “Remember, I love you and don’t you ever forget.”

“Or what?”

Hermione didn’t stick about to reply. She took off running as fast as she could at the first Ysalamir using her wand to do all sorts of spells and hexes possible. Ron was two steps behind Hermione going for the left side Ysalamir doing the exact same spells and hexes. They had done this before. The pickings were easy as was the third Ysalamir. Then Hermione and Ron took off to the right after the other three Ysalamir. Since Ysalamir can communicate the three on the right had moved seeking cover. Knowing this pattern, Hermione and Ron started firing the same spells and hexes so that they collided with each other. This way the spells and hexes could explode causing smaller spells and hexes that could go round and under rocks. They flushed out and killed the three Ysalamir.

Despite feeling winded, the pair circled about for the last three. These Ysalamir had a head start and were running as fast as possible up and away from Hermione and Ron. Seeing them run, Hermione pulled up short, took careful aim and sent three nasty curses that caught up and killed the Ysalamir.

“Ron, remind me to carry throwing knives while we are out here.” A winded Hermione said as they walked back a little slower then they left.

Al was not in a happy mood, “Was that entirely necessary? Now everyone knows we are here. Might as well pull out the carpet and take it easy going back.’

Hermione looked Al square in the face and called out to Ron with, “And make sure we use brooms. All this walking is not good to my feet.” Then addressing Al, Hermione asked, “Now we know why all your records have nothing noted. This place is crawling with Ysalamir. Because of them, you remember nothing and record nothing. All those years you have been out here forgetting what you saw and heard.”

Al was thunderstruck at what Hermione said. The enormity of her statement was profound as it was damming.  Al collapsed in a heap with head between hands.

Feeling somewhat sad for the diligent elves, Hermione added, “You did the best you could. Elves are good at many things, maybe Ysalamir spotting is not one of them.”

Al looked up at Ron and Hermione and in a dejected voice asked, “What are we to do? Can’t go home with this tail of woe.”

“We go in and find out how the others are doing. No point is going back empty handed. Not while we are already out here.” Then she quickly added, “If you are in agreement?”

Al got up and took Hermustus for a short walk. To get out of earshot of the others. While they were chatting, the Weasley boys and Hermione gathered to discuss their plans.

Bill opened first with, “So, you are saying these Ysalamir have been causing the elves to forget things that go on?”

“Exactly.” Was Hermione’s short reply.

“And that’s why the elves have nothing of note recorded over the past hundreds of years?”

“Exactly.”

“And we almost forgot everything because the Ysalamir are close?”

“Exactly.”

“And how do we know we haven’t already forgotten something already?”

“You haven’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Ron has been recording everything since we got on the carpet. Learnt recording everything would have saved Harry a lot of grief if he had recorded things rather than getting people to trust him. Trust and listening are different things.”

Percy chimed in with, “Classic, absolutely classic. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you have never been accused of lying time after time like Harry.” Retorted Hermione. Then looking at Ron added, “And we never thought of doing any recording. Too ‘in the thick of it.’”

Thoughtfully Percy added, “Do you think it would have turned out any different if you had?”

“Nah,” Ron said. “Wer’e not going back to do any what-if’s. Let’s just keep looking forward.”

That’s when Al and Hermustus came back to the others. Al spoke with a new air of authority. “I think we should salvage something out of this expedition to find your father by pressing on into the forbidden zone. Now we don’t know what we shall find. Could be dangerous. Maybe life threatening. But, all in all, I think we owe it to passed elves that have spend time here, doing their duty as best as they knew how. Yes, and if you are willing, you should join us in this endeavor.”

“Adventure, more like it.” Was Percy’s quiet comment.

Bill looked at the others then said, “We’re in.” Then added, “Need to do something about all these Ysalamir if we want to get anywhere.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Ron and I have a few tricks up our sleeve to deal with them. Saw them in Australia and survived.”

“Seen them before?” Percy asked in a surprise voice.

“How do you think we knew what to do here?” Ron asked.

“Just thought you were lucky.”

“Not us. Not when you have Hermione on your side.” Replied Ron, “Down under has every sort of nasty creature known to the wizarding community. So, the locals have developed a vast array of spells, hexes, etc., to deal with them. That way they can live safely.”

“Picked up several good defensive means and methods that made our stay much more enjoyable.” Was Hermione’s comment.

“Don’t teach you everything at Hogwarts,” Was Ron’s reply. “That’s why Hermione is such a good reader. Always prepared for the future.”

“Well I hope she is ready for our little adventure,” Al said in a somewhat grave voice. Then he added, “Let’s get back and record what has happened. At least we shall have one report about these Ysalamir in the books… just in case we don’t come back.”

The walk back to the forward station had Ron and Hermione out front. Hermione was constantly sending off search and seek spells to find Ysalamir. Strangely, there was none to be found the entire journey.

With great reluctance, Al pulled down the journal and made a full and complete report of the day’s activities. The two salient points being, Charlie was not found and that Ysalamir were found in the area about the waters of Sebus.

Spirits were revived after a good evening meal where the talk was on everything but the day’s activities.

Finally Al broke the spell by saying, “Tomorrow, we go where no elf has gone before. I have sent a message back letting everyone know what is going on and the fact that we are planning to press forward. The new plan is for us three elves, along with your good selves to press forward. Press forward to find Mr. Weasley and solve the puzzle of the missing elves.”  


* * * *

 

Harry had slept soundly as had Ginny: despite sleeping in the chair holding Harry’s hand. The nurse bringing breakfast gently woke Ginny with, “Here you are deary. Thought you need a bite. You go first then see if your Harry would take a bite or two.” After studying Harry the nurse added, “Once cleaned up I suppose he’s not a bad looking lad.” That comment made Ginny look closer at Harry. He still looked like he did when he arrived at Hogwarts; all bedraggled looking like he had been dragged through the mud and hedges backwards. The doctors had cleaned up the damage but not removed the dried blood that still covered quite a bit of Harry’s clothes.

With wand in hand, the nurse said, “Let’s see what we can do to make young Harry here a bit more presentable.”

Ginny quickly asked, “You won’t get into any trouble: will you?”

“Oh you young people are so funny. That’s part of my job. All nurses here are specially trained. We do it all. Never know what’s coming through the front doors these days. It could be all hands on deck, or slow as molasses. Every day is different.” Then in a more conspiratorial tone the nurse added, “Like the other night. Nasty spell backfired on a drunk. He was all turned inside out, upside down, and left to right. Well, who do you think had to do the dirty work getting the poor soul ready for the doctors to see? Well that’s what us nurses do. Took a while, but he will live to drink another day. Sad really when a wizard falls foul of muggle drinking habits. And getting worse, you know.

“Now, stand back a bit as we clean him up a bit… and no copying. These are nurse spells that take ages to get right. I don’t want to boot you out of the room while I do it. Okay?”

Ginny nodded quickly. She had heard of the special training St. Mungo’s nurses have to undergo. It is classified as rigorous because a deep knowledge of anatomy, physiology, bodily functions, etc., is required. Because it is so rigorous, only the best get to be called ‘nurse’ at St. Mungo’s.

The nurse started to wave her wand while muttering incantations. Slowly the very air in the room got a chill and a blanket appeared over Harry. Then, in a flash that was so quickly, Harry’s clothes were removed and replaced with a gown. While the change happened he received a sponge bath, hair was washed and combed, and bandages changed.

“No way!” Ginny exclaimed.

“He’s making a good recovery,” the nurse added. “You just sit down and put your chops into that food then see if your young fella will eat a bit.” With that, the satisfied nurse left Ginny and Harry alone..

Ginny attacked the eggs, bacon, sausages with vim and vigor of any self-respected Hogwarts student. While eating she studied Harry. In that quiet moment she realized how close she came to losing him before they had been married. The tears slowly started trickling down her cheeks and onto her food. The love she had for this trouble-finding boy was a feeling she had never felt before. It filled her whole being with joy, wonderment and trepidation. Being together was going to be a big step for both of them.

She cut Harry’s food up into small pieces and started to shake Harry to see if he would wake up.

Harry was in the throws of a Quidditch game with a bunch of little tikes. They were playing to kids rules. Even though there were about a thousand kids and only one Harry, Harry was easily holding his own. The game was going his way because there were no parents fussing over their kid getting a small scratch or two. This time he was attacking every kid as hard as he could. The moves he was using were revolutionary. He executed every move with reckless exactness and style. After unseating everyone, he came to the end of the line. At the end of the line sat a little red head on her broom. Harry tossed back his head and attacked the diminutive girl. In a flash, he was attacking with bludger after bludger. The girl on the broom flicked this way and that. Every ball missed by less than an inch. She had her timing down that good. In frustration, Harry threw one by hand and bashed another one by using his handy-dandy Beater's bat. The two bludgers were, again, easily avoided.

Getting close he noted this little girl wore goggles, a white bandana and red cape. A real mix of fashions. Feeling it wasn’t worth the effort, Harry turned his back and the second he did, he was whacked in the back by a bludger. He turned but was too slow and got whacked by another on the outside shoulder. He rolled the broom and the third and fourth bludger went sailing by. Harry smiled at his smartness. Little did he know they were boomerang balls and they came back with devastating effect. Harry went flying off his broom and crashed into the dirt. Eating dirt was something Harry did not like doing. He punched the dirt. He stomped on the dirt. Spat out the dirt. Then he stood up, dusted himself off and stuck out his hand. His broom responded and on he climbed. He said to himself, ‘this girl is going down!’ He turned to face the girl only to find she was gone. That made Harry madder than mad. He didn’t like people running away.

That’s when he realized the girl was right beside him, shaking him. Shaking him on his left shoulder. He gave her a dirty look. How dare this slip of a red head touch him. Him the mighty Harry, the best seeker Hogwarts ever had.

Then she said his name, “Harry,” then added,  “Harry, time to wake up for breakfast.”

The dream slipped through his fingers like the dirt he thought he was eating.

Harry opened one eye. Nothing came in to focus. He tried the other. Again, nothing was clear.

“Glasses.” he tried to say. It didn’t work.

“What did you say?” Ginny asked.

Again he tried, “Glasses.” Again it didn’t work.

That’s when Ginny pulled out her wand and set up a translation box. “Try again,” she said.

After a bit of a struggle, Harry muttered, “Glasses.” The translation box got it right.

Looking about Ginny did not find his glasses right away. She found them in a blue glass case in one of the drawers. The nurse’s spell did a great job. Unfolding the glasses, Ginny carefully slipped the glasses on Harry, and then pushed them into place.

Harry blinked several times. Things weren’t much better. Rather than fight he fell back asleep. That’s when Ginny took off the glasses and put them safely away. Best to let him recover in peace.

Seeing Harry settle back asleep, Ginny popped out of the room and over to where her mother was. Mrs. Weasley was up eating breakfast. Despite looking fine, Ginny could see the tell-tail signs of stress in her mother.

“I’m off home.” Mrs. Weasley said to Ginny. “Are you coming home with me?” The question was a question with a statement buried under the question.

Foiling the implication, Ginny said, “I think I’ll stay here with Harry. Wait until he is out of the woods.”

“Oh. You are going to stay, are you?”

Holding up her left hand to show her mother the ring, Ginny replied with, “Harry is still not out of it. Better stay and be here… just in case.”

Mrs. Weasley felt rejected by what Ginny was saying. Mrs. Weasley wanted to remonstrate with her daughter: then refrained.

Mrs. Delacour said, “I ‘elp you ‘ome.”

“You have been so kind coming all this way to help me. Very much unnecessary, but so glad you did.”

 Mrs. Delacour beamed then added, “Fleur ‘as gone ah ’ead to make the ‘ome ready for you. She is a good girl, always ‘elping out about the ‘ouse. You will like what she is done.”

“Sure I will.” Then, with trepidation in her voice, Mrs. Weasley asked the dreaded question, “Any news?”

Ginny looked at Mrs. Delacour while Mrs. Delacour looked at Ginny. Ginny blinked first: it was her mother asking the question. “No news at the moment.”

Mrs. Weasley wilted on the spot and fell into a chair. In a quiet voice she said, “No news at all.” It was more of a statement than a question requiring an answer.

Ginny looked at Mrs. Delacour and could tell Mrs. Delacour was also feeling the fear that every mother has towards their husband and children.

“I’ll send out some owls and see if anyone knows something,” Was Ginny’s olive branch.

Her mother smiled at the offer, nodded her head and said, “That would be nice. You do that.” After looking about Mrs. Weasley added, “I think it is about time I went home. Got to get things ready.”

Getting in to St. Mungo’s is easy. All you have to do is be sick. Getting out of St. Mungo’s is another story. Bit of a challenge since paperwork has to be complete and signed. Making sure a patient was ready to leave fell on the shoulders of a cadre of administrators. They were diligent in their work ethic and accuracy. So, Mrs. Weasley thought a good time to leave would be after breakfast. She informed a nurse of her plan, who, intern informed the administrators that Mrs. Weasley would be leaving and to get all the paperwork ready.

Ginny went back to Harry’s room. He was still asleep. She walked over to the bed and pushed away some hair from his forehead. Leaning over she studied Lord Voldemort’s scar and how it was dominating the upstart. For a split second she was happy Voldemort’s scar was winning. Then she gave a shudder. Thinking about Lord Voldemort was not one of Ginny’s happier moments. She quickly packed up those memories and put them behind a locked door.

Ginny walked over to the window and looked out on a gray London day. Quickly turning around, she looked back at Harry, asleep, and was happy they will be together an awful long time.

From across the corridor came a storm of noise. Ginny could not make out the words but knew it was her mother in full anger. Quickly Ginny went to see what was going on.

As Ginny opened the door, she got an ear full of her mother yelling, “What do you mean I wasn’t registered in? Who cares if there is no administrative paperwork… I didn’t ask to be put in a bed here… You lot did it to me!” That was followed by, “Paperwork: I’ll give you paperwork. I’ll give you paperwork like I gave Bellatrix a goodbye wave. You understand?” After glaring between the three administrators, Mrs. Weasley added, “If you want to discuss this further, you can find me at my home waiting for my husband to return.”

Seeing no one was interested in continuing the conversation, Mrs. Weasley turned to Mrs. Delacour and said, “Time to leave.” No one stopped them. The two ladies marched out of the hospital to find a quiet location to disapparate.

Ginny quickly turned to hide a smile from the hospital administrators. She knew her mother was formidable when it came to her family. With pride Ginny walked back into Harry’s room to see a sleeping Harry on the road to recovery.

Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Delacour apparated a short distance from the Burrow. The sky was gray and the wind was up as they bundled themselves against the elements and started off towards the house.

Mrs. Weasley immediately knew something was wrong and was about to say so when Mrs. Delacour said, “Look, there iz Fleur. She iz waiting for us.”

The house was wrong, the door was wrong and the minute she stepped food into her kitchen Mrs. Weasley exploded with, “What have you done to MY house?”

An indignant Fleur said, “I haz improved it a bit.”

“A bit,” yelled Mrs. Weasley said as she stood rooted to the spot by the kitchen door. In every direction things had changed, been moved, relocated, modified… literally the place was different in every respect. No longer was it the home of the Weasley’s. A home created over the years as the family grew up. Now it was an upgraded house that vaguely resembled the old Weasley house once known as the Barrow before the French Revolution moved in.

The kitchen, the heart of the Burrow, was completely changed into a French impression of what a modern English kitchen should look like. Everything was laid out neatly, professionally and in a very logical order. Nothing like the original Burrow. Mrs. Weasley stomped about the kitchen. She opened this and that. Looked here and there. Searched for her favorite sweeping broom and throwing open the oven to look inside.

A feeling of deep indignation swept over Mrs. Weasley. She turned to face the two well-meaning French women and, in a low menacing growl  said, “Get out. Get out right now before I do something I will regret.”

Fleur grab hold of her mother’s arm and said, “We leave… we leave now. Zis is not good for us to be ‘ere.” The two French ladies backed out of the house while keeping all eyes on Mrs. Weasley and her hand that was wrapped around her wand.

 Mrs. Weasley followed the two ladies out of the Burrow and watched them disapparate. Then, and only then did she turn around and take in all the changes that Fleur had done to the Burrow.

To say the changes were minor in nature would be a massive understatement. The garden had been thoroughly gone over by a skilled gardener and changed it from an gnome infested scrap of ground into a venerable feast awaiting further development and management of a serious kind.

The rickety Burrow building had been straightened, rearranged, enhanced and painted in several bright colours. Colours that Mrs. Weasley detested. Her home of so many years; her home where she raised a family; her home of memories; her home that she fussed over; her home was absolutely gone and no amount of magic could ever restore it. Then she wondered what her husband would think of it. He loved the house with all it’s quirks, cabinets and ways that you get used to over the years. And most special of all, this was the house that Arthur carried Molly into so many years ago. All gone as in gone, vamoose, vanished, disappeared in a puff’ of smoke.

That’s when Molly plopped down on the ground out front of the house and started to cry. She cried over her dead son. She cried over her lost husband and soul mate. She cried over her missing sons. She cried over her daughter who thought Harry Potter was more important that her only mother. Then she cried because no one was about to offer consolation.

That’s when she saw a gnome peeping at her from the cabbage patch. Another was looking from the grape vines. Another was peering round the carrots. Then she saw one over by the house tapping the ground so other gnomes could come out and see the matron of the house all despondent and dejected.

Seeing she was the center of attention, and realizing Fleur had not done a proper job eradicating the gnomes from the garden, Molly Weasley jumped up, stuck out her hand and yelled out, “Accio broom.” In less than a second, the broom was in her hand and she was chasing gnomes all over the place and then knocking them into next week while riding her broom and hitting the little buggers with her well-aimed handbag.

 The pity party was over and Molly Weasley was back with a vengeance. She worked out all her pent up feeling by taking it all out of the well entrenched gnomes. The battle of the Burrow, as it came to be known in family circles, started that day and Molly Weasley continued to attack anything that looked even remotely like a gnome.

When one arm needed a rest, she switched over and carried on low-level rides hitting anything that moved. Soon the gnomes got the message and started making plans to move out, temporarily like, until the onslaught abated.

Only when satisfied the gnomes were under control did Molly go back to the house and start a through review of the damage. She started off by walking about the outside. The house was now bigger at the base, more organized as you looked up; chimneystack was upgraded and straight; more windows that could indicate more rooms; and the house was taller.

Molly entered the kitchen and this time looked carefully about. Just about everything had been changed except the family clock. Rather than indicating the hour, on the clock's face were a series of possible locations, including “home,” “school”, “work”, “traveling”, “lost”, “hospital”, “prison”, and “mortal peril.”

The hand for Arthur stayed locked on “lost.” While the hands for Bill, Charles, Percy, Fred and Ron wandered between “lost”, “prison” and “mortal peril.” Ginny’s hand was on “hospital” even though it was not her needing medical assistance. Never in her entire life had the family been so split up and going in so many dangerous directions. That’s when she wished they were young again, living carefree at home so she could fuss over and keep a close eye on. That’s when Molly realized, watching your children growing up is so hard to do.

Molly noticed the kitchen was larger which made sitting about the kitchen table much easier. There was more space for food preparation and the usual kitchen implements were now at eye level: much easier to command. The original single sink was now three stainless steel sinks labeled, hot, cold and other. Standing back, Molly liked what she saw. Begrudgedly she had to acknowledge good thought had gone into the kitchen upgrade.

The stairs were no longer rickety or squeaky as Molly ascended up to the master bedroom. It was much bigger with separate closets for him and hers. Molly wandered into her closet… it was huge. Everything was professionally laid out with huge French style mirrors on three sides. Noticing a third door, Molly opened it out of curiosity. It was the bathroom including a bathtub and showers: as in two showers.

Since the Weasley family, along with just about every other wizarding family knew “Parasol works wonders, and it shows.” The actual act of having a bathtub and shower was considered decadent in the extreme. These days, everyone used Parasol; no one used water. That is everyone except Arthur Weasley and his fascination with anything muggle.

When Arthur first discovered muggles took baths, he tried it using an old muggle horse trough. Despite his eagerness, Arthur had not grasped a few simple salient points. Points such as, it is best to take a bath inside away from prying eyes. It is best to use hot water in winter. It is best to take your clothes off before getting into the bathtub. It is best to use muggle soap to clean yourself. Items such as these are not documented in the usual muggle reference books.

To have a bathtub in the center of the bathroom was absolutely magnificent. The showers were designed with Arthur and Molly’s different heights in mind. A well thought out addition to the Burrow.

However, the his and hers bidet would have to go.

On the other side of the landing was a new room. When Molly opened the door she saw a new addition, it was the sewing room she always wanted. It was complete with a mannequin. All her material scraps were carefully folded and put away between sheets of paper. The needles all neatly arranged by size in the needle cushion. A top of the line wizard sewing machine complete with a full range of colour threads for sewing and embroidery.

Molly wandered up the stairs to the children’s bedrooms. They were all larger than the original. Molly was thinking if all the children were married with their own children, the newly redesigned Burrow could easily handle everyone. Maybe that that was what Fleur had in mind during her rebuild.

After a through walk through, Molly’s fears were placated. However, she wished she had been consulted before rather than be surprised like this.

At least her faithful rocking chair was still in the kitchen by a window. She sat in the rocking chair rocking slowly while she was thinking. She was thinking about her husband and where on earth he was. The only consolation being the clock hand was pointing at “lost” and not wandering aimlessly about the clock face.

Later on, in the quietness of the evening, Molly was settling down to a nice cup of tea when in strolled Ginny.

“Struth mother, what have you been up to? When I apparated I was sure I was at the wrong place. Everything is so different and modern looking. Didn’t know you wanted to update the place.”

“What are you doing here?” Huffed Molly.

“Just wanted to see how you are doing. Thought I’d pop over while the doctors are doing their rounds.  Give them some space while looking at Harry.” Then her eye spotted the new sink. “Wow mother: that is a sink and a half. Why wait until now to upgrade? That would have been so useful when we all lived here.” Then she asked the all important question, “Why do the changes while dad is away?”

“I didn’t do it.”

The answer came as a big surprise to Ginny who had to ask, “Then who did it?”

“Fleur did it.”

“Wow mum, your’e lucky to have her in the family. She has good tastes.” Ginny could say that about Fleur now, but back in the day she thoroughly hated Fleur and everything French. Admittedly, they now understood each other better since they are not living under the same small roof. Then came the next puzzling question, “Then why ask her to do the changes now while dad is not here?”

“I did not ask her to do this. She just did it.”

“No way mum. No way she would do this all on her own.”

“Well she did.”

“Really?”

That is when the small bell went off indicating tea was ready. Ginny quickly jumped up and put the cup on a saucer along with two McVittie digestives. “Here you are mum.”

Looking at the two digestives, Molly said, “Oh, maybe just one more.”

Ginny handed her mother the extra digestive then asked, “So, what do you think?”

Molly nibbled on the digestive while thinking about her reply. Finally, she said, after the first digestive was gone, “Not exactly my cup of tea,” then added, “But I think your father will like it. Did you see the workshop out back? He has been after a place to work on muggle stuff. I think he would like it.”

They fell into a small silence while Molly drank her tea and Ginny gazed about catching all the changes, and there were too many to remember how it used to be.

“You scoot along and see how Harry is doing. I’ll be fine. Just got to find where things are. Change is fine at your age, when you get along in years; routines and familiarity are nice assets to have. Now, give your ma a kiss and get along.”

“Only if you are sure?”

“I’m sure. Who is going to bother me out here? If you didn’t recognize the place, who will.” Then a thought struck her, “Blast, I hope the Ministry aren’t going to send a building inspector out here to make sure it is built to all the latest codes and standards? All your father talks about is how meddlesome the ministry is getting. Seems they want to put their stamp on everything now Voldemort is gone. Oh well, Just have to face it when it happens. Now, off you go back to your Harry and get him back on his feet.”

Ginny jumped to her feet, gave her mother a quick kiss on the cheek and disapparated.

That was when Molly sat down and wrote a note to Fleur apologizing for her actions and asked her to pop over.

 


	13. Holiday for some, Searching for Others

**June 03, 1998** **, Thursday Morning**

 

_The wings we have,_

_Can they fly at the speed of sound?’_

_No._

_If we have a Jet_

_Can we fly at the speed of light?_

_Yes if we Run._

From ‘Liverpool by the Sea’, 1st Edition.

 

Buckingham Park Road, Surbiton had a right end and a wrong end. Fortunately, the S. AND C.R.C.C had its stop at the right end of the road between the high garden walls of “Ivanhoe” and “Belle Vista” respectively. The alley is roughly twenty yards long, including the turn at the end. At two minutes before sunrise, the omnibus was in the alley with two hansom horses ready for the journey. Sadly, none of the sleepy Hogwarts graduates paid any attention to the empty omnibus as it left: The people for the Seamus Android European trip were loading their stuff into the larger bus belonging to the Pawley Tourist Line. Better known by its common name, “Pawley’s Peephole on the Past” Pawley catered to large discerning groups doing the grand European tour. Pawley and his staff could put together anything for anyone and get you in to any venue for the right price. Simply put, he was the best of the best and that is why Seamus Android used him to put together this European trip.

 Sleepy parents were in abundance making sure their kids were there on time with their stuff. No one wanted to miss this once in a lifetime trip. No one, that is, except Neville. His original plan was to go on the trip. Thing had changed with Harry in hospital, with Neville’s desire to do some exploring, and with Neville’s excitement of messing about at Hogwarts all summer long. Neville thought Europe would always be there hile this time with Harry and Hogwarts won’t. Therefore, he chose to stay.

Luna, on the other hand, had initially chose to stay behind, and now chose to go.  Everyone, including Seamus Android, knew Luna could be a bit difficult to get along with, but she paid her dues and was on time to board their bus.

Once the busses were loaded with sleepy graduates, and the final count was made, and everyone who was supposed to be there was actually there, the conductor rang the bell and the driver took off into the dead end alley. Thus started Seamus Android’s European trip.

The bus left at fifteen minutes past sunrise. They were heading to the white cliffs of Dover to do some exploring of the underground cave systems recently discovered by that well-known wizarding exploration team of Senzerlyopperoff and Slim. The next stop would be Paris, the Louve and the Rose Line.

Parents lingered, chatted and then drifted back home as it was still very early in the day.

Despite the rather large number of witches and wizards, about the only muggle to see the departure was a small boy over at 28 Buckingham Park Road, Surbiton. For a long time he had wondered about the signpost at the alley entrance. The weather worn sign had, ‘To Heaven’ painted on it. The other reason for questioning the signpost was it pointed into the dead end alley.

 

* * * *

 

Neville’s first night in the forbidden forest was uneventful. It should be as he had cast enough spells about his three-story tent to keep anything and anyone well away.

Neville liked the three level design as it offered a good view from the top. His design was not the current one in vogue: That would be the single story expansive design. That design catered to young families with lots of kids and the older generation who found going upstairs tiresome. That is why his tent came at a reduced price.

Being on his own meant Neville had to rely on extendable ears and the slightly experimental extendable eyes. Once up he checked on these devices to see if anything happened during the night. Nothing did. Then it was time for a good breakfast and then break camp.

Neville was on the trail by eight o’clock. Rather than use a standard issue broom and get sore, Neville had put two brooms together with a much more comfortable seat. His little escapades tracking Harry down had taught him one things, and that was standard brooms are not suitable for long usage. His design had a better seat, high cantle and good leg supports. The only thing he lacked was a stout, rubber rapped, horn.

Neville was using a new map to cover the terrain between Hogwarts and the Pan Stones. This map had expanded coverage, as he was interested in seeing where all these other people are coming from and going to.

Once he had cleaned up the campsite, Neville was off flying high above the forest. By using his new map, he could follow trails, rivers, clearings and other odds and ends. What he did not see were people of any type or description.

 

* * * *

 

Everyone was up by six o’clock in the morning. The elves were rustling up a breakfast suitable for their impending expedition into the unknown. The quietness was disturbing despite a high degree of expectation.

After a blessing on the food, Al broke the silence with, “I how everyone slept well.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement of fact. He continued with, “We have received several communications from the chief elf at Hogwarts. He has been in communication with several other elf groups and we are in agreement that we must place the past behind us and press on to see what there is to see and find out.

“For you, the primary function is to find you father and sibling. If Professor Hagrid is there, so much the better. If he is not there, then we shall continue to expend all energies to find out where he is.

“For us elves, the primary goal is to find out what has happened to the lost elves of Zorham.

“At the moment our goals are the same and will continue to be the same until something emerges to change the statue quo. At that time, we shall reevaluate and adjust our plans. Right now, Hermustus and I think we should go back to the Waters of Sebus and do a thorough search.  There has to be something we missed. Since we are abandoning this outpost for a while, we shall need the eyes and ears of all three of us elves as well as all your good selves. I think this should be a force sufficient for the task. We shall adjust once we know what happened at the Waters of Sebus.” All ended with, “Any questions?”

Hermione asked, “Can we get some Scout Owls involved?” Scout Owls, as every good witch and wizard knows are one of the largest types of owls that can fly high and fly for long periods. Because they fly high, they can observe a wide area and report back because they always come in threes. That means there is always two looking while one is reporting… that is if there is anything worth reporting.

Nodding in agreement Al said, “We too thought of using Scout Owls and have already have two sets heading our way as we speak. Your extendable ears and eyes should be good for the immediate area while the owls for longer range.” After a pause and a shuffle of feet, Al added, “Failure is not an option.” He let the statement sink in before adding, “Us elves are good in many area. You witches and wizards are good in other areas. Hopefully we make a strong team if we work together.” Hermione nodded in agreement but wondered if they were going to run into the Ministry of Magic difficulties later on. Since they were outside Ministry reach, she wasn’t too worried… at the moment.

That’s when Hermione pulled out Neville’s annotated map and the others gathered round. Al asked, “Is this an enchanted map?”

“No,” replied Hermione. “Only something quickly put together by Neville. Covers some of the forbidden forest out to the Pan Stones.”

Al looked and hummed away before saying, “Going to need some update to include our area. That should be possible with the help of the Scout Owls. I think they could do that for us. This could come in very handy while we search. If we could keep this map accurate we should be able to search efficiently and without going back over the same ground.” The tone in Al’s voice was beginning to have a more positive tone.

That is when Percy asked, “Don’t you have a map of the area”

“Alas no,” Anti-Ephinias replied. “Elves prefer to rely on their instincts and knowledge passed down over time.” Then he added, “Keeping a journal of the days spent here has been a struggle for elves to do as it is not something we believe in. And, I think this sad episode will go down reinforcing that belief.”

Ron looked at Hermione and Hermione looked at Ron. Both knew the many advantages of having Harry and his marauders map.

That was when Al got to his feet and came round to the front of the map and started to study it. “I like this new idea of elves using maps. Could be a thing of the future. Especially of we are going into the exploration business. Both Hermustus and Anti-Ephinias looked skyward. They knew Al was one of the very few elves with wanderlust in his eyes. “Once updated we shall head out. Should not take too long as I understand the Scout Owls were on station and already gathering data.

Slowly the map began to be filled in with the Waters of Sebus, the Land of Many Sorrows, and the Land of Desolation. The Land of Many Wonders was not shown on the map. Some say it is a wonder that anyone knows about it while others say it is a wonder anyone can find it. Either ways the Land of Many Wonders is a wonder to behold.

While they were waiting for the map to update it self, Hermione pulled out a book on Selkies and began to read about them.

It was late in the morning before Al and the group left their outpost and headed back down the trail to the Waters of Sebus. Everyone used brooms while Al used his carpet to bring up the heavy stuff that they thought they would need.

Once they arrived at the Waters of Sebus they circled round and round checking for any undesirable types of any sort. From their scouting and the circling owls above, they decided the area was uninhabited.

Once they touched down Al addressed the assembled with, “As you know us elves have our own ways of exploring the areas. If you would not mind sitting out of the way while we conduct our survey.”

As the eldest, Bill spoke for the family with, “Of course. Are you sure you don’t mind us observing?”

With a rye smile, Al replied with, “Looking and understanding what is actually gong on are two entirely different things.”

At that, the three elves went to their brooms and started to circle the waters. They started very low, skimming the ground, and going a little higher then a little higher. They worked this way for thirty or forty minutes. Their circles had pinpoint accuracy. Once complete, the elves started crisscrossing the land and waters, again starting low and working upward.

Sitting on the side Hermione was enthralled by what the elves were doing. She was glad she read the Australian Aborigine book titled “Tracking the Untrackable: The Aboriginal Wizard Way.” It was a hard book to find, as Aborigines don’t make many books, as they prefer hands-on teaching.

Then the elves hovered over certain areas, bending down to have a closer look. One of the elves pulled out a brush to delicately work on something with a few deft strokes with the brush.

The Weasley boys had assumed positions of repose to chat and play battle chess. Ron had brought along his pocket set and they were on their fourth game when Al said, “Gather around. I think we have a result from our survey.

“In our humble opinion Charlie was here and met someone. That person was a Selkie. Selkies are easy to spot. Over there,” Al said pointing to a spot on the edge of the waters, “They sat and ate a sandwich. Ham, cheese with a lettuce on top”

“Are you kidding me,” Ron said, “You can get all that in that quick look?”

“Our cleanliness is not a lax as that of wizards and witches. Same for other dwarfs, centaurs and the like. Maybe goblins are a cut above the average. Having said all that, I am sure that our reading of the facts is correct. I am also fairly curtain that they left, they apparated back to Hogwarts.”

Bill jumped up and said, “No one can be that good. I mean, no one can be that good tracking anything that magical.”

“Sadly that is why every magical creature refuses to share means and methods with anyone else.”

“Is this an exception?” Bill quickly asked.

“Of course not. There are no exceptions between us elves and you wizards and witches…”

That’s when Hermione stepped in with, “... [to be continued]


End file.
